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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557981">A Shift In the Winds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentstrife/pseuds/crescentstrife'>crescentstrife</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Atropos [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dreams and Nightmares, Explicit Language, F/M, Falling In Love, Fate &amp; Destiny, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Making Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, Remix, Sane Sephiroth (Compilation of FFVII), Sefikura, Sexual Content, Team as Family, Temporary Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:53:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>127,573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557981</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescentstrife/pseuds/crescentstrife</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sephiroth dreams – sees the man (monster) he could become. He then decides to take a different path. But destiny has a habit of staying the course, and he finds he will have to fight harder than he ever has before for the right to decide his own fate. </p><p>Luckily for him, he has some help. </p><p>(Or, in other words, a remix of FFVII, in which Sephiroth turns toward the truth in hopes of finding freedom, in which Aerith tries to become a Cetra her mother would be proud of, in which Zack strives to achieve his dream of becoming a hero, and in which Cloud, once again, just ends up saving the world).</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sephiroth/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair &amp; Cloud Strife, Zack Fair &amp; Sephiroth, Zack Fair &amp; Sephiroth &amp; Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Atropos [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2092404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>727</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>605</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Do Good Weirdly Challenge Stories</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Vision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello and welcome to my attempt at a remix/what-if fic, premised around the idea of portraying Sephiroth as the hero he could have been. And also threw in some Sefikura, because I couldn't help myself. Note that I've played around with the ages in the fic, so Cloud is close to eighteen at the start and no funny stuff happens until he's past that age. Still, he is a subordinate and Sephiroth is the General, so just wanted to make note of that, in case that dynamic bothers anyone reading. </p><p>The total story will be narratively broken into three pieces, with the first part set during Crisis Core. Each part will update on a weekly basis, with brief hiatuses of three to four weeks in between parts (that way, I can write ahead for you and keep on schedule!). But you won't have to go anywhere for the other parts - they'll all be posted in this same fic. You can sort of consider this as the main story of the Atropos-verse, with other sequels and side-stories posted separately.  </p><p>Feel free to check my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/crescentstrife">@crescentstrife</a>, and/or my tumblr <a href="https://rabid-heart.tumblr.com">@rabid-heart</a> if you want updates on (well) updates.</p><p> In any case, please enjoy the ride! Any questions or comments, please let me know.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Right now, we're just setting the stage. Warnings include some violent imagery, mentions of Sephiroth's (very) troubled past, and Zack being Zack.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time Sephiroth dreamt of fire, it was in Wutai. He was barely a teenager, and the flames rose high above the gangly frame he had yet to grow into, orange and yellow and red swallowing the wooden rooftops and the starry night sky (it was the stars he tried to focus on the most from that first tour, so bright and sharp and unclouded by the Midgar smog). In the years afterward, he would dream about that fire because it was the first he ever cast outside of the white-walled confines of the laboratories, and he remembered distinctly the lack of chemical smells coiling around the heat.</p><p>But he also dreamt about that fire for another one-hundred and twelve reasons, and in his dreams, they were always there. Rotting, burning, twisting corpses piling along the streets, in the homes, the women and children with slice marks on their throats to spare them the pain of burning alive in some gesture of fabricated mercy. Following that debut performance, the President and Dr. Hojo received a report from Heidegger, commenting favorably on potential of this new weapon they just unleashed. “The weapon is a success,” the report stated. “We recommend immediate deployment in the front-lines.” Meanwhile, the Wutaian newspapers said something different.</p><p>Regardless, the reason Sephiroth thought of that fire now, a decade or so later, was because this one he now dreamt of about felt similar, despite the obvious differences. The wooden roofs were less thatched and more dark oak, the air cooler with the tinge of fall versus the thick humidity of the Wutai island jungle. Even the stars in the sky were different, constellations altered, and though the air was still clear, it was now cut through by the image of a large, craggy mountain. But despite these alterations, he knew it was the same fire, knew its power came from him. Sephiroth knew, because the bodies were still stacked around him.</p><p>And for the last few months, or for however long now this dream had been coming to him, that would be all he would see before awakening: a brief hour or so of slaughter, of watching the fire burn against the blood. But it was not the bodies, the flames, the destruction, that caused Sephiroth to feel uneasy at the dream – he had seen those sights a thousand times and had been taught that the sentiment attached to such things was a weakness to be discarded. Instead, what surprised him was the way it made him feel: powerful and excited and free and like a god. Such a far cry from the fear, the guilt, the sorrow that cracked his heart when he first learned to kill like that.</p><p>It felt too good to be true.</p><p>
  <em>The weapon is a success.</em>
</p><p>And, then suddenly, as if rising to challenge the truth Sephiroth thought he had always known, the dream changed, and instead of never-ending red and orange and yellow and death, there shining brighter than the fire that blazed around him, were a pair of sky-blue eyes.</p><p>---</p><p>On one cool March morning, Sephiroth woke to the sound of his alarm, blaring through the silence of his dark-walled apartment. The red font read five-thirty in the morning. Though he usually managed to rise before the noise ever began, he had failed to do so lately. Not in the weeks since Angeal and Genesis were reported dead at Modeoheim. And not since these dreams had started to invade his head.</p><p>They had started with that new fire – an unknown village awash in a conflagration he was certain was of his own making. He could feel it, his consciousness trapped in a body that seemed to belong to some other Sephiroth, walking through the flames and slicing apart any unfortunate being who had not burned to death. The fire was the most frequent dream, but sometimes, he dreamt of flight, like a winged predator scouring the night for its prey. On those nights, the dream would end once he speared through what – or who – he was looking for, a girl with chestnut-brown hair that looked so similar to a woman he had known as a child. Those mornings left him shaking far more than he would care to admit (it was impossible, he knew. Ilfana had died in the escape attempt, according to Hojo and all other official documentation he had managed to find). On rare occasions, he’d see children with decaying black flesh, again from a magic of his own hand. He would watch from within his own body how he would curse these people with an anger that felt so bitter and dangerous and alien and yet, not so far out of reach.</p><p>There were nights that Sephiroth would see if he could control the dream – try to stall his attack on some poor villager, try to hold back his blade from slicing through that girl’s pink dress. He would fail each time. It was as if his mind were trying to teach him some lesson in futility. Some part of him supposed that that was a lesson he should have learned from the Shinra military a long time ago. So, after a while, he stopped fighting it, watched the story unfurl before his eyes. Then, when he woke up, he would try to push down the mounting tangle of feelings that the dreams inevitably continued to surface.</p><p>The obvious feeling was a relishing, a joy, that came from the exertion of power – after all, his strength was what he was known for, what gave him value. For that, he learned to prize his abilities, however destructive. It had taken him time to reconcile himself to his reality after that horrific first stint in Wutai (he remembered his much-smaller body sobbing in the cold laboratory room after returning to Midgar, back turned to the camera he knew was installed in the corner in hopes of hiding his weakness from Hojo. Not that it mattered – the scientist had merely took the tears and broken him down further, until any protest about being sent over again in a few months died on the operating table). Sephiroth’s capacity for cruelty was just a byproduct of his function now: it was what Hojo teased out of him, encouraged so viciously in his experiments. Though, perhaps in some twisted form of defiance, it was a piece of himself that Sephiroth tried his best to keep locked away.</p><p>Not so, in these dreams. There was a sort of pained resignation in that thought. Hojo always insisted that he was a god capable of great destruction. That was what Sephiroth became in those dreams – and Sephiroth both hated it and yearned for it. It was the reality of his life, this conflict. Genesis and Angeal were the first to show him a different path, only now neither of them were here to walk it with him. It made the choice Hojo offered even more appealing, to give into the anger and the sorrow. But there was still some part of him that clung to what was maybe the delusion of his humanity, or at the very least, the idea that he was worth more than whatever Hojo constructed him to be. The opposition felt like it was both constricting his heart and breaking it into two and fighting that feeling each morning after the dreams brought that conflict to a head was beginning to feel more exhausting than fighting the Wutai War.</p><p>Which was why this night, the night he dreamed of those eyes, was different. A ray of sunlight in the devastation he wrecked. A young man that stood before him, with a sword that looked eerily like the one Zack now carried on his already burdened shoulders. Blue-eyes that shone with anger, despair, longing and determination. When he lifted his sword and Sephiroth could feel the blade slice through his own flesh, there was no longer that pain or confusion. There was only relief.</p><p>So this morning, despite the cackling of his alarm and the ache in his back and neck from another long day of pouring over paperwork in the office, he felt something different from the usual conflict, confusion, hurt.</p><p>He felt a little hopeful.</p><p>It curled like a tiny wisp around his heart, as Sephiroth lifted his arm and shut the alarm clock off. Going through the motions of the morning (splash of water in the face, slide of the leather coat over his shoulders, bitterness of coffee mingled with the sweetness of a fruit salad), he let it sit there in his chest, warm and safe. It was the first remotely good feeling he had in a while, and he wanted to savor it for as long as he could.</p><p>Of course, his morning then decided to take a turn. The omen took the form of a black-spiked figure, sitting in Sephiroth’s office, with his booted feet on Sephiroth’s desk. Lieutenant Zack Fair, however, seemed oblivious to the intrusion and was intent instead on watching Midgar wake up from the impressive view through the window behind his desk. His second-in-command was also distracted by humming some idiotic tune, no doubt one of those pop songs that played unceasingly from the Goblin Bar.</p><p>“Zack,” Sephiroth acknowledged. “Feet off.”</p><p>Zack whipped his head away from the window to face him, a look of surprise on his face. “I didn’t even hear you come in. You move like a cat.”</p><p>Not the first time Sephiroth heard that comparison. He walked to the front of his desk and waited for Zack to take the hint and move out of his chair, which, to his credit, the younger man picked up on quickly. “What are you doing here this early?” Sephiroth asked. The silver-haired man began organizing his desk, setting down his coffee and turning on his monitor and laptop.</p><p>“Lazard assigned me to that monster clean-up in Kalm. Supposed to be a one-day trip – we’re leaving in a few. But I wanted to catch you before then.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>Zack leaned back against the window, crossing his arms casually. “Just wanted to check in, that’s all.”</p><p>Sephiroth paused, took a moment to regard Zack, the longer hair, the scar on his cheek, the sword on his back. This was yet another unusual occurrence. Sephiroth understood from reading psychological textbooks how grief worked, and it was obvious from the change in Zack’s behavior over the past few weeks that he had most certainly been grieving over Angeal. The man was still a puppy in some ways, but the insistency at his attempts of creating laughter or joy took on a slight sorrowful, even desperate tinge (as if Zack was trying to convince himself of happiness). But Sephiroth always defaulted to privacy, and even though he noted Zack’s transformation, he thought it best he stay away. The fact that the Lieutenant had not reached out either seemed to affirm Sephiroth’s decision.</p><p>Like most other situations in which Sephiroth found himself in uncharted territory, the General thought it prudent to proceed with caution. “Check in?” he repeated, as if for clarification.</p><p>Zack seemed to be ahead of him. “You know, see how you’re doing. We haven’t really talked in a while.” Then, after a moment of hesitating, he added, “You’ve looked a little tired lately. Have you been sleeping?”</p><p>Sephiroth thought briefly about the dreams, about how he never really woke up rested since they had started. Was his exhaustion that evident? He thought about the handful of interactions he had with Zack since Angeal’s death – and there were only a few of them. What had he given away? There was a part of him, tied to that tendril of hope he had awakened with this morning, that seemed to reach out. But he quickly shoved that notion down, almost out of instinct.</p><p>“Yes,” said Sephiroth instead, which was technically still true.</p><p>Zack examined him for a moment. He was clearly unconvinced. “Sure you have,” he said. Then, his eyes flickered to the clock on Sephiroth’s desk, and he sighed. “Listen, you got any time later today?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, not,” Sephiroth said. As if to add emphasis to the point and hopefully end the conversation, he added, “My calendar is booked until ten at night.”</p><p>But of course, leave it to Zack to take what was supposed to be a rejection as an invitation then. “I’ll take it then,” Zack said, grinning.</p><p>“You’ll be tired after your mission.”</p><p>The young man’s grin grew wider. “We can be tired together.”</p><p>Ah, innuendo. The classic Zack Fair disarmament manual. Genesis played the same cards, too. That thought momentarily shot through Sephiroth like a lightning strike, but he kept himself upright all the same. The best response was to simply give up, as it would at least end the ridiculousness. “Fine. You are going to be late. Please leave.”</p><p>“Yes, sir!” the Lieutenant replied, leaving with a salute that Sephiroth was certain was an attempt at a joke versus a sign of respect. He let it slide anyway. It was better for Zack to be joyful. Even he had to admit a happy Zack was preferable, over the Zack he saw weeks ago following the mission in Modeoheim.</p><p>The only problem now was what to say to Zack once ten at night came around. He supposed he could play his usual card, which was extreme silence to a level that would cause Zack to babble and fill the spaces on his own. But then Sephiroth thought about that hope, that light, that came from his dream this morning. It was a shift in the winds, a change. Was it a sign that he should try something different? And what would it mean if he did?</p><p>He let himself turn that thought over for a moment longer. But then his phone rang, his email pinged and Midgar began to awaken, so Sephiroth had no choice but to move forward with his day.</p><p>---</p><p>Though he had only arrived at Shinra less than a year before, Cloud Strife knew the number one rule passed down to army troopers: under no circumstances should you ever consume the mystery meat served in the barrack cafeteria on Tuesdays.</p><p>Yet, here he was, his measly salad untouched and his blue eyes shocked wide, watching one First Class SOLDIER Zack Fair, devouring said mystery meat like a starved puppy. The man had just returned from a mission eliminating monsters near Kalm, and when he had texted Cloud asking him if the blond would join him for an extremely late dinner, Cloud had responded with excitement over the prospect of having something other than bad cafeteria food. But, as Cloud was now beginning to learn over the few months of knowing Zack, the SOLDIER was simply full of surprises. Apparently, Zack was the only man in Midgar who loved the barrack meatloaf, which then left Cloud with no choice but to eat in the cafeteria after all.</p><p>So much for the hope of a decent meal, Cloud thought forlornly, sticking his fork into a grape tomato, and watching the red juice dribble out. Around them, the cafeteria was empty, save for one worker who drew the short straw to stay up with the late-night shift, and a janitor mopping the corner of the room. The fluorescent lights casted the space in a sickly yellow that bounced unflatteringly against the grey tiled floor, and the clock placed above the door read nine-fifty.</p><p>“You sure you don’t want some?” Zack offered. He reached for the ketchup bottle for the third time that evening. “I swear, this meatloaf got me through the SOLDIER training program.”</p><p>Cloud raised a brow. “You really are something else, Zack. Or at least your stomach is.”</p><p>“Trust me, Spike, once you make it into SOLDIER, your appetite is going to grow off the charts too. It’s like I eat dinner at seven and am starving again by nine.”</p><p>Cloud supposed that explained why Zack was trouncing around for another meal at close to ten on a Tuesday night. He stabbed another tomato. “If I make it into SOLDIER,” he commented, perhaps a little too bitterly. In response, he noticed that Zack paused his chewing to regard him with a quiet, sad look.</p><p>Cloud glanced away. He genuinely tried not to sound bitter, but the truth was that the results from the last round of exams provided Cloud with little hope. While he had scored just above average on the materia and strategy portions, the physical exercises and the simulated missions were his downfall. Unable to keep up with the physical demands of the program, the evaluation stated. Doesn’t play well with others.</p><p>That was marginally better than his first time around, though that was of little consolation to Cloud.</p><p>As if following Cloud’s train of thought, Zack spoke up. “You’ll get it this time, Cloud. You’ve been kicking ass at our training sessions. In a few weeks, you’ll get where you need to be.”</p><p>“Only thanks to you.”</p><p>“Yeah, so?” Zack wiped his face down with a napkin and smiled, in his warm way. “No one ever goes through this process alone. I had Angeal. You got me.” To punctuate the thought, the SOLDIER stuffed another bite of the mystery meatloaf in his mouth, chewing obnoxiously for emphasis.</p><p>At that, it was hard for Cloud not to smile a little. That was the thing about Zack that he liked the most. Unlike all the other SOLDIERs, or frankly anyone else he met in Midgar, he was always reaching out, always trying to relate and comfort. It was his best skill, which was saying something given that Cloud had seen Zack in action a handful of times, slaying monsters without breaking a sweat.</p><p>“Sorry,” the blond muttered. “I’m not trying to be ungrateful. The handful of training sessions you’ve given have been more than helpful and I definitely feel stronger. It’s just frustrating…to have to go through this a third time. I thought I could be better than this, that’s all.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna be the next Sephiroth,” Zack teased. “Ace everything on the first attempt without even trying. You and every other trooper trying out for SOLDIER.”</p><p>Cloud ducked his head into his scarf to hide the heat that suddenly rose from his neck to his cheeks, which only served to encourage Zack further. The Lieutenant reached out and immediately began scuffing up his blond hair. Cloud swatted his hand away. “Cut it out!”</p><p>“Really don’t know how you manage to keep it this spikey and yet so soft. You got to tell me your secrets.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, maybe if I pass the exam, I will.”</p><p>Zack grinned. “Oh, I’m going to up your training just for those secrets. You got yourself a deal, Spike.” He leaned back in his chair to scan the room for a moment, pausing at the clock above the door. The moment Zack seemed to register the time, Cloud noticed his friend’s eyes widen in what seemed to be slight terror. Zack pushed forward his tray and reached into his pocket to fish out his PHS. “Shit. I got to go, Cloud. I have this really important meeting.”</p><p>Cloud blinked. “At ten o’clock at night?” he asked in disbelief. “You can just say you’re meeting your girlfriend, you know.”</p><p>Zack smirked. “Nope, not with Aerith, though with someone you probably think is just as pretty.”</p><p>It took a moment for Cloud to get the joke, and once he did he rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Zack.” Then, realizing the implications of the time, the blond asked, “Does Sephiroth usually work this late?”</p><p>“Sephiroth is a workaholic,” Zack explained, waving his hand in exasperation. “Give him a mountain of paperwork, he can’t seem to stop until its done. You two kind of have that in common.” He reached down to try and bus his tray, but Cloud interrupted by yanking Zack’s tray from his hands and stacking it under his own.</p><p>“I got it,” Cloud said. Before Zack could protest further, the blond stood up and began gathering their trash. “Thanks for second dinner, Zack.”</p><p>Zack paused for a moment, then sighed, though it was evident from the smile on his face that it was not out of exhaustion. “I rest my case. Too stubborn for your own good, Spike. And you wonder why you won’t make SOLDIER with a backbone like that.”</p><p>Cloud ducked his head into his scarf again. “You’re going to be late. Go!”</p><p>“Alright, alright!” The black-haired man smiled, walking backward with his hands in the air toward the door in mock surrender. He stopped at the doorway for just a moment and met Cloud’s eyes. “Sorry. Just having a weird moment of déjà vu. Pretty sure I had this exact same exchange with Sephiroth this morning…”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Zack shook his head. “Oh nothing. Just saying, I think I’ll tell him you said he was pretty.”</p><p>Cloud stammered, very tempted to take a ball of trash from their trays and toss it across the room in the other man’s direction. He liked Zack, very much, but like an overactive puppy who couldn’t help but chew your shoes, even the banter could get a bit much (though it was never as bad as the boys back in Nibelheim and never with the same malicious intent – so he couldn’t bring himself to ever hold it against his mentor/friend). “I did not say that! Anyone ever tell you to shut up?” the blond said, hoping the deflection would hide any more of his embarrassment.</p><p>Zack, luckily, seemed to take the hint to stop with the teasing. He said, “Yep, everyone and all the time. See you tomorrow. Training grounds at one!” The SOLDIER waived and exited the room, taking much of the noise and warmth in the room out with him.</p><p>Once the cafeteria doors swung shut, Cloud sighed into the silence. He walked the stack of trash to the cans by the doors and made his way from the cafeteria toward the housing buildings. The night was nippy with late winter air, and though Cloud would deny it if asked, this weather never failed to remind him of Nibelheim. At this time last year, the sleepy mountain town was still covered with snow. He would have been chopping firewood in the backyard while his mother warmed stew in the kitchen, singing under her breath. The memory made Cloud smile. He could name the things he missed about Nibelheim on one hand, and his mother would always be on the top of that list.</p><p>He swiped his keycard and opened the doors to the trooper dormitories. Even though curfew was just a half-hour away, the halls were still abuzz. A few people were walking down from the showers, and some were conversing across open doorways. Cloud shuffled through the mess to his room, feeling the fatigue of another long day of patrol, training and terrible cafeteria food sinking onto his shoulders. He was really looking forward to a night of sleep –</p><p>-- which is why, in hindsight, it was the exactly perfect opportunity for trouble.</p><p>“Look who’s here, back from a quickie with Fair,” a sneering voice stated.</p><p>Cloud tried his best to school his face into a neutral expression. Leaning against his door, dressed in sweatpants (which really ruined the intimidating effect, not that Cloud would ever admit to finding this infuriating bully intimidating) was Jackson Connor. As far as Cloud knew, Jackson was a Midgar city kid with a father who was some manager in some department at Shinra, but the guy acted as if he was related to the President himself. The dark-haired and dark-eyed man had only arrived at Shinra a few months ago, determined to break into the SOLDIER program after the spring examination, just like nearly every person who applied for a place in the army. Jackson was confident he would too, and as soon as he heard it would be Cloud’s third attempt, the man had made it a point to remind Cloud of this fact every day. It didn’t help that he had Cloud beat in height and strength, and he wasn’t at a complete loss at materia usage, either.</p><p>“That’s SOLDIER First Class Lieutenant Fair,” Cloud corrected. He tried to make a move toward his doorknob, but Jackson immediately stepped forward to block his approach.</p><p>The other man smirked. “Yeah, I bet he makes you call him that.”</p><p>Cloud clenched his fist. He didn’t mind the comments so much – the people back in Nibelheim were a lot more malicious, especially after the fall from Mt. Nibel with Tifa. He could deal with taunts and insults, had an immunity to them. But just as he hated it when those words were directed at his mother, he could not help the anger that was bubbling in his chest about the insinuations being made about Zack. Zack, who had done nothing but be kind to him, since they met in Modeoheim. Zack, who was clearly grieving something even though he always tried to hide it. Cloud suspected Zack took him on as a mentee after the older man had lost his mentor as a way of honoring him. He wanted to make sure that he worked hard to be worthy of that honor, too.</p><p>Despite the fact that it was killing him, he pushed the anger down and tried not to lash out. Instead, Cloud responded, “Curfew is soon. You need to go back to your room, Jackson.”</p><p>“We still got a few minutes. Enough time for me to kick your ass.”</p><p>How original, Cloud thought. To say he could name all the cliché bully phrases in the book at this point in his life would be an unfortunate understatement. He tried again for his door, but this time Jackson put his hands up and shoved the blond back. It took quick reflexes for Cloud not to tumble over, but he managed it somehow, standing his ground and shooting the other trooper what he hoped was a defiant look. “Look. We can either fight here, get caught after curfew and be kicked out, or duke it out in a few weeks at the SOLDIER exam. I think you and I both would rather do the second.”</p><p>Jackson glared back, clearly smoldering with anger – though Cloud had no idea whatever the hell he did to deserve it. He wasn’t the friendliest, but it wasn’t like the blond went out of his way to antagonize the guy since he came to Shinra. Then again, it wasn’t like he or his mother deserved the derision that Nibelheim gave them regardless. There was a part of him that had already accepted the fact that the world was unfair like that. That same part also hoped that things could maybe change if he did manage pass that exam this time.</p><p>“C’mon, Jack,” one of the other troopers watching their standoff said. “Strife’s right. We’ll get in trouble.”</p><p>It took a moment, but eventually, the bigger man scowled. “Fine. Hope you know that third time won’t be the charm, Strife,” Jackson said. He gave another glare, possibly, Cloud surmised, to emphasize his point, before turning away from his door and shoving past the other troopers down the hall.</p><p>Cloud watched as the group rounded the corner, then moved to open his door and slip inside his room as quickly as possible. His roommate was already asleep, snoring softly and completely oblivious to the confrontation that happened just a wall away. Not that he would have helped otherwise: while Cloud found that most other troopers were relatively nice and mostly indifferent to each other, each trying to make their own way through the confusion that was Shinra and Midgar, there were inevitably bad apples. One was most likely to survive by keeping his head down and his nose in his own business. It was unfortunately not so different from life at Nibelheim; it was also unfortunate that Cloud really never liked keeping his head down when something needed to be said or be done.</p><p>Still, that was thinking for another night, when he wasn’t so tired and didn’t have to get through patrols and another training session with Zack the next day. Cloud slipped out of his boots and his uniform, tossed on a sweater that his mother made for him (it had a tiny hole now, near his thumb, which Cloud made a mental note of making sure to bring this sweater back to Nibelheim for mending if he ever scrabbled together enough funds to visit) and climbed into bed. He fell asleep to the sound of his roommate’s quiet breathing.</p><p>----</p><p>At five-past-ten, Sephiroth was convinced that Zack had forgotten about their scheduled meeting. He had a moment of relief. Then, of course, the black-haired man decided to barrel into his office like a chocobo rushing to the finish line. Zack stammered out profuse apologies, plopping down gracelessly into the chair in front of Sephiroth’s desk.</p><p>“I was just getting a bite to eat and catching up with Cloud, and I completely lost track of time,” Zack said, finally getting to the end of a rather long-winded explanation.</p><p>Sephiroth merely nodded. He had heard Zack mention this Cloud several times over the handful of interactions they had. From what he could surmise, he was a Shinra trooper that Zack had gotten attached to and taken on as a mentee. It was oddly similar to what Angeal had done for Zack. The connection was, admittedly, endearing.</p><p>“It’s alright, Zack,” Sephiroth said. “I was still here working, regardless.”</p><p>“Oh, good. Wait – not good! What the hell are you working on this late?” Zack stood up quickly and walked around Sephiroth’s desk to peer at his monitor, blatantly ignoring Shinra data privacy protocols. “Wait, are these the parameters for the next SOLDIER exam?”</p><p>Sephiroth quickly ran his hands over the keyboard to close out the screen. “Yes, they are. And seeing as you have some bias in this particular round, I would rather not show you them.”</p><p>“Aw, c’mon.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Zack’s face changed into something that was suspiciously close to a pout. “Okay, that’s fair. But I mean, seriously, Sephiroth. Cloud totally deserves to get in. He’s smart, he’s tactical and he has a mean right hook. Here, I’m going to show you his file.” The Lieutenant leaned forward to steal control over Sephiroth’s keyboard and began pulling up the Shinra employee directory.</p><p>Normally, Sephiroth wouldn’t been keen over the invasion on his personal and professional space, but there was a part of him that was still relieved over the distraction Zack had found. It at least avoided what he assumed was going to be yet another awkward conversation between the two, in which they would circle around what happened to Genesis and Angeal, but never come together on what was truthfully a grief that was shared between them. By now, Sephiroth was schooled in avoidance of these matters. If it meant indulging Zack’s tangents, it was a small price to pay.</p><p>At least, he thought it was a tangent. But when Sephiroth turned to his computer screen to see the file that Zack had opened, he realized it was something else altogether.</p><p>“What do you think?” Zack said, grinning. “SOLDIER material, in my opinion.”</p><p>Sephiroth let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Staring straight back at him, from behind a flop of sunflower colored spikes and with a defiance that he was now, strangely, familiar with, were those blue eyes from his dreams.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Alteration</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sephiroth tries to find out more about the blond with blue eyes from his dreams. Cloud takes the SOLDIER exam. Zack has an interesting conversation with Aerith.  And things begin to change from there...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for the wonderful feedback on the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this week's update, as well!</p>
<p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Some violent action, descriptions of an injury, explicit language.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was as if a dam had broken. In the nights following his discovery, the blond now frequented Sephiroth’s dreams. Sephiroth experienced a thousand different lives, locked in a body that refused to listen, that continued to set the world ablaze. And each time, Cloud Strife would appear to free him, leaving Sephiroth awake in the morning awash with an unsettling feeling of relief.</p>
<p>But it seemed to be a complete paradox, given what he could see of the blond SOLDIER hopeful now. Sephiroth was watching, unknown and hidden behind the dark glass screen separating the VR Training Room from the Control Room, while below him Zack was running the blond through a series of monster-slaying simulations. The young man – and he looked <em>young</em>, and though his file indicated he was in his late teens, one could easily mistake him for much younger – was vastly different from the man that killed him in his dreams. He was decent with a blade, with proper footwork, and had a clear knack for materia, too. But despite the modicum of talent, there was nothing to suggest that this man would become anything close to Sephiroth’s match – especially the Sephiroth in his dreams that seemed to have no issues holding back his cruelty.</p>
<p>In fact, Sephiroth was even questioning what it was about Strife that had Zack so interested. Angeal’s choice of taking Zack on as a protégé was obvious: Zack was a rare talent, a nearly perfect mixture of brass, instinct, charisma, and skill that indicated very serious promise, a new leader for the next generation of SOLDIERs. While Strife certainly displayed a similar boldness in spurts, the reality was that the blond did not trust himself. From what Sephiroth could observe, Strife would often second-guess maneuvers, almost as if trying too hard to reach a standard of perfection very few people could hope to achieve. He would swing when he shouldn’t, cast when he should swing. He was just trying too hard.</p>
<p>(It reminded Sephiroth, achingly, of Genesis in the early days, of the man’s bad habit of demanding nothing less than perfection. Genesis had high standards, but his highest were always reserved for himself.)</p>
<p>He supposed then it was good thing that Zack was the mentor. While the Lieutenant was far from stupid, he did have a knack for accidentally (and, sometimes, purposefully) throwing thought out the window. Despite that, it seemed evident that even Zack was having trouble getting Strife out of his own way. The black-haired man had now turned off the simulation, motioning for the blond to remove his headset and stand at attention. In response, Strife put down his sword and slid the VR set off, running a gloved hand through sweaty spikes.</p>
<p>“Okay, what did we do wrong this time?” Zack said, holding up his PHS. The timer read five minutes and twenty seconds, which was twenty seconds more than the time limit that would be set in the simulations run for the SOLDIER exams.</p>
<p>Strife sighed, opening and closing his right fist and shaking it out to loosen it up some more. He was clearly exhausted. “I switched my strategy midway, dealing with those drakes. Should have stuck to magic, acted as support for my team since I was carrying a sword and not a long-range weapon.”</p>
<p>“And the guard hounds?”</p>
<p>The blond frowned. “I’m seriously never going to get this right, am I?’</p>
<p>“That’s your problem, Cloud,” Zack said, moving forward and taking the headset out of his friend’s hands. “You keep thinking that there’s a right way. You also keep thinking you got to do it all yourself. It’s a team mission, Cloud. Follow your gut and trust your team.”</p>
<p>“That didn’t seem to work the last two times.”</p>
<p>It was now Zack’s turn to sigh. “C’mon, Spike. You got it in you. I’ve seen how you operate when you just stop thinking and just let yourself go.” He reached over, clapped a hand to Strife’s shoulder, a gesture that Sephiroth recognized from Angeal. “All you got to do is show the SOLDIER examiners that.”</p>
<p>Quietly, the blond looked down. It was obvious from his expression that Zack had not completely convinced him, but he nodded, nonetheless. “Okay.”</p>
<p>Zack seemed to think it was enough for the day. He switched modes, from serious and well-meaning mentor to grinning goofball. “Well, good. Now let’s get some food, I’m starving.”</p>
<p>“Again?”</p>
<p>“SOLDIER appetite, baby. You’ll see it in action soon enough!”</p>
<p>Sephiroth watched the two pick up their swords and exit the Training Room, their voices eventually fading into the hum and whir of the machines around him. He looked down at the tablet in his hand, once again open to the file that Zack had showed him about a week ago. Right now, the only thing Cloud Strife the trooper had in common with the man in his dream were the eyes, bright and fiery despite the intense blue. They were…breathtaking, in a way. He had certainly thought so the first time he saw them in his dreams.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, Zack was never as oblivious as he oftentimes pretended to be and had promptly noticed Sephiroth’s reaction to seeing his friend’s picture. Sephiroth had played it off as passing curiosity and ignored the way his Lieutenant’s eyebrows wiggled, like the tail of a puppy that had just found a new thing to be excited about. He had let Zack ramble on about Strife, though he was barely listening at that point, more interested in scrolling through the file to see what else he could learn, which had unfortunately been nothing much at all. Still, Sephiroth, knew that he had to keep his interest to himself. Otherwise, he would have to explain everything to his rambunctious Lieutenant, and beyond the fact that Sephiroth himself had no knowledge to be able to explain the dreams, the General also had enough experiences with the Science Department to know that any revelatory courses of action should at least be preceded by more careful thought.</p>
<p>The end result was that Sephiroth needed more information, before he could figure out how to proceed. He had learned that Strife was from Nibelheim, that he arrived in Shinra after the Wutai War ended, a few months following Zack’s promotion to First Class. Notations on his file indicated that he was relatively average in mostly everything, from materia, to weaponry, to tactics. There were only two real things that stood out to Sephiroth: the fact that Cloud Strife had failed the SOLDIER exam twice (and was trying again for a third time – that was nearly unheard of, which was a revealing fact in itself) and that Strife had a propensity for being involved in fights with his fellow troopers.  </p>
<p>It painted an extremely confusing picture, that someone who was relatively so unnoteworthy featured so prominently in Sephiroth’s subconscious. What exactly did it mean? Why was everything telling him that this blond was important, even though logically, no evidence seemed to support that fact? Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was this some side effect of what had transpired with Genesis and Angeal? Why Cloud Strife, of all people? None of it made sense – and there seemed to be no sound reason to the reality. Sephiroth preferred having knowledge, understanding, the full scope – it was what made him a skilled tactician. But all he had now were random pieces, with no real sense of what ending picture the puzzle was supposed to form.</p>
<p>If there was anyone that knew something, it seemed to be Zack, so confident that his friend had something special, something that belonged in SOLDIER. But what hope was there for Strife to exhibit those characteristics if he didn’t seem to see that in himself?</p>
<p>Sephiroth sighed, pressed the button to shut off the tablet. He had spent far too long now running around in circles in his own mind. And there was still much he had to be concerned over currently. Hollander, after being take into custody by Zack, was being interrogated by the Turks for more information and had been stubbornly resistant for the last several weeks. The Turks were investigating rumors about the existence of a potential mole in SOLDIER that may have been feeding Genesis information. Though no Genesis copies had been spotted since Modeoheim, there were still concerns about the missing copying technology that had been stolen from the Science Department. Not to mention that there remained so many questions regarding just what had happened to Genesis and Angeal, what had spurred or caused their degradation – and what other Shinra secrets lurked behind those corners.</p>
<p>In light of all this, it was becoming ridiculous, this distraction with Strife. Sephiroth had no time to chase ghosts. Perhaps, as Zack had insisted earlier, Strife would reveal something different during the SOLDIER exam. Though Sephiroth never typically made it a point to observe (that was something he left to Angeal, as well as Genesis, when the latter simply was curious about the “fresh meat”), he made a note to clear his schedule for that day. He’d give Cloud Strife one last chance to show him a sign, a flash, of the man in his dreams. If not, he’d lay the matter to rest, chalk it up to sheer coincidence, and move on.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>If Cloud didn’t know any better, he would say this whole thing was a set-up.</p>
<p>The day had started out alright. He had managed a few hours of sleep, despite the nervousness that continued to bubble and simmer within him. His roommate, who had elected to take the fall exam instead, actually wished him good luck. So did Zack, his well-wishes sent in a series of excitable text messages (the Lieutenant had mentioned that he couldn’t watch this round due to another mission, which was a relief to Cloud, since the blond wouldn’t be sure if he could ever live another day if his friend had to watch him screw up again). He had called his mother two nights before, and she too offered more words of encouragement.</p>
<p>On top of all of that, Cloud felt <em>good. </em>He felt stronger, more prepared than the prior two attempts. Even the derisive comments from Jackson and the other troopers over breakfast failed to discourage him. Cloud had walked into the morning exam session with a confidence that surprised him, and the events of that session only helped to build him up further. The tactical written exam felt easy – there were only a few questions that caused him difficulty – and his spellcasting during the materia-usage evaluation was crisp and controlled. While Cloud stumbled a little during the sword-play section, he did manage to get his sparring partner to a draw, which was better than his prior two performances. When they broke for lunch, Cloud sat himself a corner of the room to calm his pounding heart. Too good to be true, he thought, and then quickly shoved the notion down. But it was too late: there was that tiny voice in his head again, reminding him that these were not the sections that caused him much difficulty in the past. What would make or break him was what would happen next.</p>
<p>Of course, it was at this point that Cloud’s day took a turn for the worse.</p>
<p>The candidates were lined up in the largest VR Training Room, all rigid backs and stiff muscles, watching as Director Lazard, flanked by four other Second Class SOLDIERs (Cloud recognized the one at his right as Kunsel, Zack’s friend), made his way to the front of the room to address them. The Director looked a little tired but was otherwise as sharply dressed. He fixed his glasses and surveyed the room with a small but encouraging smile.</p>
<p>“Candidates, welcome to the next stage of your examination process,” Lazard said, repeating the same speech that Cloud had unfortunately heard before. “For this portion, we will break you up into teams of three, and you will take part in a simulated mission, led by one of the SOLDIERs standing behind me.”</p>
<p>At this, the Director gestured to the men behind him. Neither of them moved an inch though, which Cloud guessed was supposed to be either an exhibition of their discipline or an attempt to make the candidates even more nervous than they already were. After an awkward pause, Lazard opened his mouth to continue. But he was interrupted by the whoosh of the sliding doors opening, and if the room could suddenly grow more silent, it certainly did.</p>
<p>Cloud tried his best not to open his mouth in surprise, but he knew that he had to have failed. With quiet steps and a commanding gate, <em>Sephiroth</em> walked into the room, his glowing green eyes scanning each of the candidates. Cloud had only seen the man once before, addressing the army and Midgar citizenry for a very brief speech following the Wutai War. He had certainly never been in the same room with him, breathing the same air. It was beyond jarring – Sephiroth looked much taller in person than the magazine and newspaper photos Cloud had surreptitiously collected as a teen back in Nibelheim. The General now looked a little older too, with broader shoulders and a more angled jawline – a slight difference from the wonder-teen the Shinra media paraded all over the television during the height of the Wutai War. The man almost seemed like a fantasy, too unreal to exist. To see him now, walking to the front of the room, that cool and assessing gaze rushing over him, it was enough to knock Cloud’s heart into overdrive again. It took a moment, but when he heard the shift of everyone else around him, Cloud suddenly remembered that he had to salute.</p>
<p>Sephiroth didn’t seem to regard the slow reaction of the candidates with anything other than indifference. He stopped a few feet behind Lazard to cross his arms and lean against the wall. “I apologize for the interruption,” he said, voice cutting through the air as smoothly as his sword. “Please continue, Director.”</p>
<p>Lazard raised an eyebrow but did not comment any further. Everyone in that room understood how unusual an occurrence this was – that Sephiroth, the greatest swordsman on the planet, the most prestigious SOLDIER to have ever lived, was standing in a VR Training room with a bunch of SOLDIER-wannabes to observe a program entrance exam. He was notoriously known for his indifference to these types of matters. However, no one was going to question whatever was happening out loud.</p>
<p>“Alright. Well, as I was saying, the purpose of this section is to evaluate your abilities and instincts within a mission-like environment. You will be expected to complete the mission within the timeframe allowed under the guidance of a facilitator, who will be the SOLDIER assigned to your team. This is the most important section of your evaluation, so your failure – or success – will be heavily weighted in determining whether you make the program.” The Director again paused, turned his head slightly to glance at the unexpected guest. “Have I missed anything, General?”</p>
<p>Sephiroth looked absolutely disinterested. “No.”</p>
<p>“Good.” Lazard returned his attention back to the candidates, clicking open a tablet. “Well, then good luck. Here are your team assignments.”</p>
<p>In Cloud’s mind, he had realized then Sephiroth being here, observing this session, was a bad sign. This was the section of the exam process he had been dreading distinctly, and if he was struggling to keep a grip on his nervousness before, it would be near impossible now.</p>
<p>Then, the universe seemed to toss another grenade in his direction. Lazard called, “Team Four – Cloud Strife, Jackson Connor and Oliver Nickson.”</p>
<p>It took a moment for the list of names to register, and another for the implication to dawn on Cloud. But once it did, Cloud could swear that he could hear Jackson smirk, and it took every ounce of military-hounded self-control for Cloud not to groan out loud.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Lazard said, a grin on his face. “But I have a feeling that your presence at this exam might lead us to failing every candidate here.”</p>
<p>Sephiroth gave a small scoff. He settled himself in one of the chairs in the control room, his eyes fixed on the monitors, pretending to be interested in whatever Team Three was attempting to do (and attempting was a generous word. Lazard was not incorrect in that Sephiroth’s late appearance had the unintended consequence of completely throwing the candidates off-guard, thereby impeding their performance). Strife’s team was up next. That was the only reason he was here, though of course, he knew better than to make that fact obvious.</p>
<p>“I should hope not. SOLDIERs will need to operate under my command, after all.”</p>
<p>Lazard folded his arms, still clearly amused. “Though we usually wait until we get them acclimated before, well, <em>you</em>.”</p>
<p>Sephiroth said nothing else. He watched, as the timer in the right corner of the screen expired, signaling the end of Team Three’s session. They had unfortunately failed to clear the warehouse within the time allotted, had in fact failed to make significant progress at all, which would undoubtedly lead to the failure of at least one of them, barring any sort of strong intervention on the part of the SOLDIER facilitator. Though, judging by the way Sergeant Kunsel seemed to shrug toward the camera in resignation after the botched mission, that was unlikely to happen.</p>
<p>That left the last team for the day on deck. Sephiroth shifted in his seat, his eyes trailing Strife’s movements. It was evident that the blond was nervous and tense, his grip on his sword almost agonizingly tight. It was also clear that young man had not received his ideal choice of teammates – the larger one, a dark-haired man at least four inches taller than Strife (Connor, his photographic memory supplied, though he honestly could care less), seemed to have a sneering sense of contempt for the blond, making it a point to shove, get in his way, and generally disrupt any fighting rhythm that Strife attempted to settle himself into. It was idiotic, really. The success of the mission – of the evaluation – rested on the ability of the team to work together and decide upon a strategy that best utilized each of their strengths, in order to eliminate the monsters in the warehouse in the allotted timeframe. The constant antagonization of teammates was not conducive to that success, and it certainly wasn’t a quality Sephiroth desired in his men.</p>
<p>Still, it was also infuriating to watch Strife simply take the abuse without so much as a word. When Connor ignored Strife’s suggestion to work together to sweep the building, insisting he could eliminate more monsters without having to handle extra baggage, Strife didn’t even so much as roll his eyes. He instead turned to the third team member, who seemed slightly more receptive. The SOLDIER facilitator stood in the corner, silently observing.</p>
<p>Sephiroth almost sighed in disappointment. It seemed like this team was going to perform similarly to all the others: a candidate or two, so determined to show off in front of the General, would try and break out on their own, maybe even succeed in killing off some of the more powerful monsters, before realizing there was a time limit and a whole other section of the warehouse to clear, and failing due to their inability to strategize or work well with others. On some other teams, similar tensions between teammates led to outright fighting. Either way, the mission would not be completed.  </p>
<p>Strife, while more willing to see the game for what it was, clearly only had that advantage because he failed similar evaluations in the past. He worked methodically with Nickson to sweep the building floor-by-floor. Neither candidate was extremely skilled with a sword, but Strife took more of a support role with materia, given his natural propensity for it. It was at least a little more promising than the performances of the prior candidates. But, given the absence of their third teammate, who obviously had the strength advantage that they would need to defeat some of the more challenging monsters, it would in no way guarantee a passing result.</p>
<p>Regardless, Sephiroth was now becoming more convinced that his mind really was just playing tricks on him. There was nothing special of note here, and he had already wasted enough time on this Strife – maybe coming to that conclusion decisively and consciously would finally allow his subconscious to settle down and stop producing these confusing dreams.</p>
<p>“Holy shit!”</p>
<p>“Connor!”</p>
<p>Sephiroth snapped to attention. On the screen, a trio of Grand Horns had collided with the larger candidate, and one of which sent a crushing blow to Connor’s leg. It was graphic enough to make Sephiroth nearly wince with sympathy. While the training simulations were not designed to leave lasting injuries, the technology was created to emulate real-life missions as closely as possible, which meant that the pain was still real.</p>
<p>Connor scrambled to blast a fire spell, in order put some distance between him and the monsters circling around him. From the floor above, Strife and Nickson were shouting. Nickson flashed Strife a desperate look, unsure of what to do next. They still had some of their floor to clear, and they were running out of time to complete the mission. But Strife, without hesitation, immediately readied his sword, climbed over the railing, and jumped down, angling his blade with the full intent of beheading the Horn closest to his teammate. The sword connected with a sickening crunch. Strife then followed up with another fire spell to block the approach of the other two creatures and then turned to Connor.</p>
<p>“Can you get up?” he said.</p>
<p>“What the fuck, Strife!”</p>
<p>“I’ll take that as a no.” Strife bent down, trying to get the larger man to put his arm over his shoulder. “C’mon, Jackson. You’re too tall. You got to help me out here.”</p>
<p>Connor looked absolutely indignant, though it was likely the pain talking at this point. “I had it handled.”</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“It’s just a fucking simulation. It couldn’t have killed me. You are wasting time!”</p>
<p>Strife took a breath and heaved himself and Connor upward, legs shaking under the weight. “Can you shut up for once in your life?” The blond turned upward, to look at Nickson, who seemed frozen to the spot. “Oliver, can you make your way down here?”</p>
<p>The third teammate blinked once, twice. “Strife, Connor is right. His leg is going to be fine. You’re going to fail again. You should leave him.”</p>
<p>Strife paused. He looked at the SOLDIER facilitator, and then at one of the drone cameras that had been following them around for the entire simulation. And there, Sephiroth saw it. The steel behind the blue. The unbreakable element. Buried deep, under the self-doubt, the teenage anger and resentment, the unassuming frame, there it was, the proud defiance of the man in his dreams.</p>
<p>“No,” Strife said. “Go clear the rest of the floor if you want to then.” He moved, practically dragged Connor, to another room of the warehouse the larger man had previously cleared, through sheer force of will. The other candidate protested, but Strife ignored him, setting the man down against the wall and pulling up the pant leg to get a better look at the calf.</p>
<p>“It looks broken, but not that bad,” Strife commented. He switched around his fire and restore materia. “I’m not great with healing, but I’ll try my best.”</p>
<p>Connor met Strife eyes. There was something strange there, almost like an understanding, a resignation. As if he recognized there was nothing else he could do – in the face of an unstoppable force, he was no immovable object. “Okay.”</p>
<p>Cloud began casting. As he did so, the timer rang a two-minute warning. The team still had one more floor to clear, so the mission failure was most certainly inevitable.</p>
<p>But Sephiroth saw what he needed to. It was like watching a trickling stream fight hard against a dam, the water building and building and building until the pressure speared through the metal, a nearly physical impossibility. There Strife was, small for his age, relatively unskilled for a warrior, with few of his mentor’s personal skills to make up for what he lacked otherwise. And yet, there was that flash of promise, like a spark that settled quietly in a thicket, that maybe someday would rise into the greatest fire this world would ever see.</p>
<p>He turned to Lazard. “Strife. How did he perform in the morning sessions?”</p>
<p>The other man started slightly, in confusion. He typed a few things into the tablet and the passed it onto Sephiroth. A passable score on the tactical exam, a strong score in the materia evaluation, and a draw during the sword exhibition. But failing to complete the simulated mission would no doubt be a black mark on what could have been a pass. It also did not help that Strife displayed borderline average fighting abilities throughout most of the simulation, having let Nickson take point for most of the mission, save for the momentary display of bravery he showed to leap down a floor and incapacitate a Grand Horn. One could even argue that Strife’s inability to convince Connor to work with him was what led to this failure in the first place.</p>
<p>Any other observer might have failed him. Too scrawny, too fiery, too troublesome, not enough promise to justify otherwise.</p>
<p>But not Sephiroth. He looked at Lazard, and with a firm nod, made his choice.</p>
<p>---</p>
<p>Here was paradise, and Zack would fight anyone who disagreed. Here, being the wooden church, the large patch of pink, yellow, green, blue, violet flowers, and Aerith’s melodious humming. It was no wonder that Zack had thought he had passed to heaven when he fell from the plate those months ago. There was no place else like this in the world.</p>
<p>Though, Zack supposed that had more to do with his companion, than anything else. Aerith was kneeling beside a tuft of daffodils, spraying the leaves with a combination of water and sugar she created herself. He wasn’t sure what tune she was singing under her breath, but it sounded a lot like one of the silly pop songs he introduced to her when he bought her a new radio. The thought made his heart sing a little, too.</p>
<p>“Are you done just sitting there, or are you going to actually fix that flower cart?” Aerith teased, looking up with a wicked glint in her eyes. She tossed her braided hair over her shoulder, in that careless and completely beguiling way that made Zack very weak-kneed.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t just sitting here, I was staring at you,” Zack said, because honesty was the best policy, after all.</p>
<p>His girlfriend grinned. “You are the worst flirt, Fair.”</p>
<p>“Hey, worked for you, didn’t it?”</p>
<p>Aerith shrugged, mischievously, then turned back to the flowers. She reached a gentle hand forward and stroked one of the petals, almost as if comforting a small animal. Zack watched her whisper something, her voice soft and lilting, like the lullabies his mother used to sing for him as a child. He noticed that Aerith did that often, and he once asked her why she talked to the flowers so tenderly. <em>To help them grow, </em>she had said. But she paused, and then added, <em>Sometimes, they need someone to listen to them, too. </em></p>
<p>Zack wasn’t oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend was definitely something special. It was as if life itself was drawn uniquely to her, the energy in the air shifting and bowing and glowing. It was sort of the opposite of Sephiroth, in a way. But they did have one thing in common: the two were clearly just…<em>beyond.</em></p>
<p>But Aerith was also refreshingly sweet and tender and human. She had a playful streak, like any other kid that grew up in the slums of Midgar. She was nothing like the other SOLDIERs he spent most of his day with – it probably had something to due with the mako, rendering them just north of abnormal and strange. Aerith was neither of those things. Aerith was Aerith. And Zack could not have survived these past months without her.</p>
<p>He got up from his position sitting between the pews and moved closer towards her, careful not to step on the blooms. “Talking to the flowers again?” he asked, crouching beside her.</p>
<p>Aerith tucked her dressed beneath her knees. “Listening, actually.”</p>
<p>“They say anything interesting?”</p>
<p>She paused, shifting to folder her hands on her lap. Her eyes turned toward Zack, green sharp and assessing. “Yes, kind of.”</p>
<p>For a moment, hesitance flashed across her face. It wasn’t an uncommon look to Zack – there were times that Aerith seemed to want to say something more but then thought better of it. Zack would be lying if he said that those moments didn’t hurt him a little (he loved this girl, wanted her to trust him, wasn’t sure what about him wouldn’t be trusting to begin with). But he knew better than to push. She would tell him when she was ready, and he would listen and be there for her.</p>
<p>Finally, after a second that seemed to stretch to minutes, Aerith spoke up, “Do you believe in destiny, Zack?”</p>
<p>“Destiny?”</p>
<p>“Like…things being written in stone.”</p>
<p>Zack blinked. Of all things, he honestly was not expecting this. In response, he then shrugged. “I haven’t really given it much thought, to be honest.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>Aerith looked disappointed, which was the last thing Zack wanted to see on her face. Quickly, he put a hand on hers and added, “I mean…I think there are things that are fated. Like soulmates. But I don’t know if I like the idea that everything is predetermined, you know?”</p>
<p>She smiled a little, running her thumb against his gloved hand. “I guess I don’t like that either.”</p>
<p>“I mean, I think it’s better to think that what we do matters, in some way,” Zack continued. His mind flashed to Angeal, all about honor and pride, and how words and actions build to meaning. Yes, Zack had to believe that what he did mattered. Needed to believe. How could he not, when it was one of the few ways that he could keep his feet moving forward, one step at a time?</p>
<p>Aerith hummed. She reached forward once more, to touch the petal closest to her. “I think you are right.”</p>
<p>“Of course, I’m right,” Zack said, grinning cheekily. He leaned forward, placed a smacking kiss against her cheek, which caused Aerith to squirm in delight.</p>
<p>“Oh you,” she said, her easy smile brightening her face. Then, she took his face into her hands, stared into his eyes closely, trying to level the moment with a cautioned sincerity. “The flowers…they were talking about destiny.”</p>
<p>Zack lifted his hand to encase one of hers, the one that was pressed against her cheek. It was another one of those things about her that he had observed, this strange connection to the world that only she seemed to possess. It could be unsettling, if he was a lesser man. But the truth was that none of that mattered to Zack. He had seen far too many unsettling things in the past year than he had growing up in sleepy Gongaga, but he always remembered what his mother used to tell him – that at the end of the day, it was the <em>person</em> that mattered most.</p>
<p>And Aerith, well, she mattered quite a lot.</p>
<p>“What about destiny?” he asked, hoping his face displayed the serious genuineness he felt.</p>
<p>Aerith’s eyes flickered to his lips for just a moment, and Zack made a mental note to kiss her again and again, after they were done talking.</p>
<p>“That it is now changing,” Aerith said. “And that we may have some hope, after all.”</p>
<p>She moved forward to brush her lips against his, but then a loud sound shot out of Zack’s pocket, the trilling echoing through the high ceilings of the church. Zack cursed out loud in surprise, drawing a laugh from Aerith, who shifted backward to sit on her heels and to give him space. Zack could feel his own face heat up in embarrassment.</p>
<p>“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly, fishing the offending PHS out of his pocket.</p>
<p>His girlfriend shook her head, smiling.</p>
<p>Zack glanced down at the device. It was a missed call, followed by a text notification from Cloud. The moment he read the name, realization barreled through him. Cloud, the SOLDIER exam. That was today, wasn’t it? The results would have been in by now. A pit curled in his stomach, one that continued to grow and grow as Zack hastily flipped the PHS open and typed in his passcode.</p>
<p>
  <em>Gaia, please, let this be good news.</em>
</p>
<p>He opened the message. It read: <em>Zack, I passed. </em></p>
<p>
  <em>I’m going to be a SOLDIER.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Good news for Cloud! But how long will it last?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Blade</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Finally, Sephiroth and Cloud meet. They begin to get to know each other in the manner they were always destined to: through their swords (no pun intended!)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Phew -- this week was a doozy with work! Thanks again for all the lovely feedback. Hearing from you, whether it is through here or any of my other social media platforms, always gives me the extra fuel I need to get through the challenge of writing this beast.</p><p>Regardless, hope you enjoy this week's update, which includes the basic Sefikura fundamentals of social awkwardness, Zack watching in amusement, staring into each other's eyes, and sparring. </p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Mentions of a minor injury, of past bullying, and of mean gossip.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The weeks following the SOLDIER exam were a whirlwind. It only took a day before Cloud was told he had to pack his things, move out of the barracks and into the SOLDIER compound. The apartment he had been assigned was small, but a clear step-up from sharing a room with another trooper, not to mention the fact that he finally had his own bathroom. But he hadn’t had much time to settle in. Just an hour later, Cloud was shuffled into the SOLDIER equipment room and fitted with three new Third Class uniforms that were just a tad too large (the quartermaster gave him a once over, and said, half-jokingly, “Well, most do tend to grow a little after the first few mako injections. Let’s just hope that’s the case for you.”) He was also given his choice of a new orb of materia. The sword, Cloud found out, would come later, once he gained better mastery of basic technique. Until then, he was stuck with the standard-issue broadsword.</p><p>Not that Cloud minded. This was already beyond his wildest dreams.</p><p>The first thing he did when he finally returned home (to <em>his own apartment),</em> after the whirlwind of introductions and information, was call his mother. Cloud could hear her surprise, her joy, behind the crackling of the phone line. He imagined her, standing beside the only public payphone in Nibelheim, the receiver pressed against her face, sporting that wild smile he missed so dearly now. “I think I can finally send more money to fix the roof,” he had said. She had replied, “I think you can keep more money to build a life.”</p><p>He was emailed his schedule for the next few months later that night. Orientation, training classes, physicals, psych evaluations and eventual missions. Cloud was told that the reason for the up-tick in conditioning was to help prepare his body for the mako injections, which were to start about two months into the process. It was exciting, thrilling even, but the grueling tempo left extraordinarily little time for Cloud to feel anything other than exhaustion at the end of each day.</p><p>That did not stop Cloud from pushing, though. Though he was keeping up well with most of the classes, he found himself falling behind in sword technique, which frustrated him to no end. In response, he had taken to pestering Zack once more for training, ignoring the screaming of his muscles, the sweat that continued to irritate his eyes. It was slow progress at the start, but after two weeks of continuous work, Cloud could feel his instinct improving, his strength building. And yet, it was not enough, not for Cloud. With each swing of the sword that he forced out of his limbs, the blond was determined to keep going. After all, he had made it this far. He can and had to do more.</p><p>But despite his progress, more often than not, Cloud still had his ass thoroughly handed to him at the end of each spar. This one was no different. Zack had maneuvered, a subtle side-step that left Cloud wide open in his lunge forward. The taller man tapped the sword out of Cloud’s hands with a gentle smack of the wrist, snatching the weapon as it fell out of Cloud’s grip. The blond braced himself with his arms against the fall, catching his breath as he landed with a soft thud onto the training room mat.</p><p>“Ouch,” Cloud said, mostly out of frustration. He shifted his weight to sit on his side, glancing up at his friend.  </p><p>Zack grinned. He set aside the two wooden training swords and crouched down. “You good there, Spike?”</p><p>“What’s it look like?”</p><p>“Like you’re pushing yourself too hard.”</p><p>Cloud rolled his eyes. He reached forward for his sword, but Zack only battered his hand away cheekily.</p><p>“C’mon,” the blond insisted. “Again.”</p><p>“Dude, no. Rest is an important part of training, too.”</p><p>“Says the guy who used to do squats constantly during his off-time.”</p><p>“I was a young, fresh and foolish SOLDIER recruit then. Now I’m old and wrinkly.”</p><p>“And stinky,” Cloud added. The blond then slowly moved to stand, despite the strain that was burning in his muscles, pleading for him to stop. “Again,” he repeated, more insistently this time.</p><p>Zack schooled his face into his best serious Lieutenant expression, and was about to object a bit more forcefully, when the doors to the training room opened behind him. For the second time in less than a month, Cloud was greeted to the unexpected presence of <em>Sephiroth</em>, walking into the same room as him, with that same cool regard and graceful manner he possessed when he last appeared during the SOLDIER exam. The blond immediately snapped to attention, the heat in his body from the hour of sparring with Zack dying into a peculiar ice, like he was a scared animal in the face of a deadly wolf. Cloud supposed there was some serious truth to that metaphor.</p><p>Sephiroth’s eyes flickered to Zack for a moment, before settling on Cloud, locking green with blue. Cloud felt the heat suddenly return, rising from his neck to his face. It almost looked like the man was searching for something, from the careful way his eyes wandered and scrutinized, though for what, Cloud had absolutely no idea. </p><p>“Zack,” Sephiroth said in greeting, though his gaze remained squarely on Cloud.</p><p>“Seph,” Zack replied, clearly surprised himself. He faced the General, though Cloud had noticed the subtle way the black-haired man shifted to keep himself between Sephiroth and Cloud. “Slumming it in the Third Class training rooms?”</p><p>“I see you are doing the same,” Sephiroth noted, acknowledging Zack fully. There was a slight amusement to his voice, one that knocked Cloud for a loop – Sephiroth, amused? It was a strange thought, though Cloud had to admit that that fact was in itself a little sad to admit. But the lilt in Sephiroth’s voice also had the added effect of calming Zack down. The Lieutenant’s shoulders relaxed, as if now convinced Sephiroth hadn’t come looking to harm or hurt.</p><p>“We were just finishing up,” Zack said. He turned to Cloud, with a conspiratorial expression, then gestured. “General, I’d like you to meet Cloud Strife, one of our new Third Class SOLDIERs.”</p><p>Zack now stepped out of the way, allowing Cloud a straight view of Sephiroth. If seeing him during the SOLDIER exam was bizarre, then there existed no words that could describe the surrealness of this moment. The man before Cloud looked inscrutable, ethereal, intentionally crafted, like a blade that was designed to be beautiful just to highlight its completely deadly nature. At least, that’s what Cloud noticed at first sight. But now, stepping closer to him, to take the man as he was, there was something else that was more salient.</p><p>It was the eyes. Behind the sternness, behind the cool façade – there was a sorrow. It was something that Cloud recognized in himself, as an angry and tempestuous child, staring at the mirror of the school bathroom after yet another encounter with playground bullies. It was the wonder of what he had done to deserve the bruises and taunts, of what was fair and what wasn’t. It was the fear of being alone. And, even stranger, was this weird want glowing behind the look, that seemed like a prayer for another life, a better one, a freer one – and even more than that, a hope that maybe, just maybe, there was someone else now who could understand that dream for something more.   </p><p>Then, Cloud realized what he was doing and tore his gaze away, kept his eyes on the tip of his scuffed boot. What was he thinking? Projecting his angst and issues onto Sephiroth, a man so far above him in ability and strength, who he had nothing in common with? He must have been hallucinating those connections, the exhaustion of his first two weeks playing SOLDIER tricking his mind and his vision. After all, he had idolized this man, dreamt about meeting him, joining SOLDIER, fighting by his side, gaining his acknowledgement. His fantasy of a life that was wider and brighter than the narrow wooden cage that was Nibelheim, was inextricably tangled with Sephiroth’s image. But to think there was anything else was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous.</p><p>Zack coughed a little too loudly at the stretched-out silence. That prompted Sephiroth to step forward. Whether he took Cloud’s silence as unusual or not, the man didn’t comment on it. Instead, the General stooped down, picked up the training swords that Zack had set aside earlier, and turned the handle of one toward Cloud.</p><p>“I believe you asked for another round,” Sephiroth said, his voice smoothly interrupting Cloud’s inner conflict.</p><p>Cloud whipped his head up, taking the proffered sword in hands that he hoped weren’t shaking too obviously. He briefly glanced at Zack, who merely shrugged and began stepping back to settle in and watch the show.</p><p>“Kick his ass, Spikey,” Zack called. Apparently, whatever earlier nervousness he had was now forgotten. Currently, the Lieutenant seemed thrilled, even mischievously amused. Cloud would have glared at his friend in annoyance, but at the moment, he was more concerned about not embarrassing himself irrevocably in front of the General.  </p><p>Sephiroth swung the training sword lightly, once, twice, as if testing the balance. It was just shy of blasphemous to see the man wielding anything other than his iconic Masamune, but right now, Cloud was just grateful he wouldn’t have to try and dodge that six-foot long reach. As it was, in his tired state, he was already going to have his work utterly cut out for him.</p><p>“Please begin when you are ready,” Sephiroth said, settling the sword in his right palm and turning it so the point faced downward. It didn’t matter that Sephiroth had elected not use his dominant hand, nor assumed a proper battle stance – Cloud knew that even with those allowances, he would still not be anywhere near the man’s level. And judging by the look on Sephiroth’s face, the concessions were made not out of any sense of condescension. It was clear that he wanted to see what Cloud was capable of, so Cloud focused instead on what he could do, running through a few opening maneuvers in his mind, before remembering Zack’s advice to quit overthinking and rely on his instinct.</p><p><em>Well, here goes nothing</em>.</p><p>Cloud leapt forward. The training swords clashed, the force reverberating through the blade and up Cloud’s arm, which had already been aching terribly even before this challenge. Cloud pushed the pain down further into his mind, moved again and again, but no matter what he tried, Sephiroth always met him. They continued like that for a few moments, the sounding of their swords reverberating through the air. The entire time, Sephiroth was watching and waiting, his expression ineffably calm and composed, like a hunter who knew he had already captured his prey. But Cloud did not feel like he was a miniscule thing being toyed with. Instead, Sephiroth’s eyes betrayed his sense of engagement in the moment. It was as if Sephiroth was waiting for Cloud to actually surprise him, and the mere idea that the General actually expected anything at all from Cloud was both unsettling and thrilling at the same time.</p><p>If that was indeed the case, the blond was determined do his best. He switched his stance, this time to let his foot connect instead of the sword. Sephiroth anticipated the change in tactic easily, stepping aside in a graceful motion and reaching forward to grasp at Cloud’s wrist and twist the blade out of his grip. The sword clattered to the ground and he let Cloud go, stepping back to increase the space between them as he did.</p><p>The whole thing only took about three minutes, maybe four. The quickness was what annoyed Cloud the most. He stumbled backward, but kept himself upright, wringing out his wrist for a moment to loosen the joint up. Sephiroth continued to watch him. He wasn’t impressed, Cloud noticed. He was still searching. <em>What does he want? Why is he here? Why does he care? </em>The thrill of Sephiroth’s attention had settled into irritation, and though some part of Cloud knew it was mostly at himself for failing to make a memorable show in the spar, he couldn’t help but channel the frustration toward the utterly bewildering man in front of him.</p><p>Cloud stooped down, picked up the sword, and put himself back into his fight stance. “Again,” he said, blue eyes hardening into icy steel.</p><p>Sephiroth’s eyes flicked up to look at him now. And there it was, a tiny change in the gaze. <em>Surprise.</em> The blond could have smiled, if he weren’t so tired and so focused on trying to get through the next five minutes. He could hear Zack chuckle from his corner of the training room, though his mind barely registered the noise over his blood pumping wildly in his own head.  </p><p>Sephiroth paused, then lifted his sword, a motion meant to signal his readiness. The blond did not wait for another second – he leapt forward once more.</p><p>The process repeated once, twice. Each time, it would only take a few minutes for Sephiroth to disarm Cloud, though the blond tried his absolute best to throw in a few unusual moves in hopes of delaying the inevitable. Not once did he manage to land a hit, not even close. The third time he hit the mat, Cloud scrambled to get himself upright, though his arms and legs literally felt like they were being burned alive. Breathing had become just short of impossible, as if even his lungs were too exhausted to keep up with his body. But in spite of it all, or maybe even because of it, Cloud forced himself to stand up, sword at hand.</p><p>“Again.”</p><p>This time, Zack stepped forward, but Sephiroth held up a hand to stop his Lieutenant. He kept his eyes locked with Cloud’s, as if attempting to make sure the message came across loud and clear. “Not tonight,” he said.</p><p>Cloud was about to protest, when the implication of Sephiroth’s words hit him like a truck and stunned him into silence. Sephiroth turned and tossed the training sword in his hand back to Zack. He then looked at Cloud, his silver bangs wisping in front of his eyes just so, preventing Cloud from reading his expression clearly.</p><p>“At eighteen-hundred tomorrow, come to the First Class Training Room.”</p><p>Then, the man left the room as suddenly as he came, leaving Zack and Cloud in the stunned silence.</p><p>“Dude,” Zack said, after several beats. On his face was a mixture of worry, concern, but also of clear delight. “What the hell did you do to the General?”</p><p>In response, Cloud allowed himself to fall backward against the mats, the exhaustion, bewilderment and the <em>everything</em> of the last half-hour weighing down his limbs.</p><p>“I have absolutely no idea.”</p><p>---</p><p>Unfortunately for Cloud, Sephiroth did not reveal anything else in the following weeks. Every evening, after whatever training classes or missions Cloud had scheduled for the mornings and afternoons, he would meet the General in the First Class Training Room (it would always be empty, save for the man himself; as Zack later explained, Sephiroth could scare the other First Classes from the room with his presence alone). They would exchange swords for about an hour, maybe two, depending on Sephiroth’s discretion. The only words shared would be interspersed between their spars, and merely comprised of terse commentary from the man.</p><p>
  <em>Strengthen your stance, do not overextend your reach, watch your footwork, change your grip. </em>
</p><p>Sometimes, though very rarely, the clipped sentences would be accompanied with physical corrections. Sephiroth would step behind him, adjust Cloud’s stance, how he held his sword. Each time Cloud would marvel at how a man who not a minute earlier displayed such speed and such power could possess such a careful touch. The General always seemed to be concentrating heavily in those moments, almost as if Sephiroth was determined not to break him. The thought made Cloud wonder just how much Sephiroth was truly holding back.</p><p>Normally, Cloud would have bristled at such treatment, but in truth, he was grateful. Fatigued was not a strong enough word to cover how he felt each night, when he finally climbed into bed. To be pushed even further would probably be too much – and while Sephiroth was a tough teacher, he was far from cruel. In fact, Cloud would even characterize him as caring, which was such a strange thing to reconcile against the stories of the man’s merciless efficiency on the battlefield.  </p><p>More importantly, under Sephiroth’s tutelage, Cloud could feel himself progressing, and rapidly. Now just over a month into the SOLDIER program, the difference became starkly evident, particularly in his sword technique classes. Compared to Sephiroth, the other Third Classes were leagues slower, and while the blond was not delusional to think that he could properly track Sephiroth’s movements, he had begun to find that he was perfectly capable of doing so for his peers. Cloud could anticipate them, see just where they were moving to next, and his body, so used to the practice and Sephiroth’s strict pace, reacted with muscle memory and instinct. It even got to the point that he could occasionally best his instructors, which was light years away from what Cloud had been capable of doing when he first joined the program.</p><p>But on the flipside, the other Third Classes were not oblivious. SOLDIER was a small program, after all, and everyone was prone to talk. Many of Cloud’s peers noticed his improvement, and while the friendlier ones responded by inviting Cloud to join them for lunch or dinner in exchange for tidbits of Sephiroth’s advice, there were still those who made less-than-kind comments about his “training sessions” with the General. Their insinuations were aggravating, and yet Cloud now found those type of comments much less bothersome than they were back in the trooper barracks. Because now, he was a SOLDIER, and he was growing the strength and the skill to prove it.  </p><p>In all, Cloud could say that he was happy, for the first time in a while. The better pay meant that his mom could now both fix the roof and the backyard barn. He had managed to make some tentative but decent friendships with some of his other Third Class peers. Zack still met up with him for the occasional mission and light-hearted training session, as well as pizza and video games whenever the First had downtime and was not spending it with his girlfriend.</p><p>The only portion of his life that felt just a little awkward, like a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit into the picture, was whatever the hell was going on with Sephiroth. Cloud had run his SOLIDER exam and that first encounter in the training room over and over again in his mind, scrutinizing his interactions carefully to see if he could find a hint of what he had done to catch the man’s attention. This became an even more pressing exercise once Zack had explained to him that in all of Sephiroth’s years at Shinra, the General rarely showed anyone anything more than deliberate disinterest. In fact, it had taken a few weeks in Wutai for Sephiroth to even acknowledge Zack as a capable SOLDIER in his own right, and Zack had the benefit of being the protégé of one of the few men that Sephiroth genuinely trusted.</p><p>But Cloud’s own self-investigation had turned up nothing. He could not figure out why the man looked at him with such level of expectancy. He was always searching Cloud for something and it was both infuriating and frightening – because it kept the blond constantly on edge, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the expectation to sour to disappointment. The truth was that Cloud did not want this to end. He had dreamed about meeting Sephiroth, learning from him, growing to become as strong as him. That was the far-fetched goal he had set out for himself as a scrawny teen that managed to clamber his way across the continents to Midgar. And for all intents and purposes, the edges of that goal seemed to be landing into place. But it was just too good to be true. And despite his growing confidence in his own abilities, there would always be a part of Cloud that would remember how the villagers of Nibelheim looked at him, with such scorn and derision, as if he would never amount to anything ever in his life.</p><p>That was the paradox: it was what fueled him and what he feared would eventually break him. And right now, what Cloud worried about most was that one day, Sephiroth would come to see what Nibelheim saw, and end the dream, as swiftly and as suddenly it had been gifted to him.</p><p>It was almost getting too much, the jolt of fear (<em>you are nothing, nothing</em>) that rushed through Cloud whenever he fell onto the training room mat, after another failed attempt at landing a single blow on the General. Still, Cloud would scramble to get up, try again, prove that he was worth this time and effort. All the while, Sephiroth would continue to regard him with that same cool expression, his eyes the only thing betraying his expectation – an expectation that confused, enraged, motivated, hurt and concerned Cloud, all at once.   </p><p>But he would not let Sephiroth know any of that, for fear of ending this strange dance.</p><p>Instead, Cloud would say, “Again.”</p><p>And if Sephiroth deemed it fit, the General would merely tilt his head and accommodate him.</p><p>They were about to repeat the steps again, one evening after another tiring few rounds of sword sparring, when Cloud suddenly found that he could not get up. He tried to brace himself, use the momentum to push up off the training mat, spear through the fire and strain in his arms and legs, when something twisted in his right wrist, shocking pain up his trembling arm. He found himself unceremoniously collapsing back onto the mat, and Cloud couldn’t help the nearly sobbing cry that tumbled right out of his lips.</p><p>“Strife,” Sephiroth called. The man was at his side immediately, the wooden training sword strewn aside and clattering to the ground. Cloud could hardly pay attention, though, to whatever Sephiroth was doing. The blond gripped his wrist with his left hand, trying to steady his breathing and hide the pain deeper, but he realized forlornly that now, there was no place for the hurt to go.  </p><p>“I’m – ah – I’m alright, sir,” Cloud replied, hating the way that his voice sounded shaky and breathless. He could not bring himself to look at Sephiroth now, worried that this was it – this was the breaking point, this was where all good things come to an end.  </p><p>“Are you injured?”</p><p>Cloud ignored him, hoping deflection would work. “Let’s go again.” He tried to tuck his knees and stand up, but this time Sephiroth lifted his hands to press down gently on his shoulders, evidently realizing that words would get him nowhere. Cloud froze, if only out of surprise due to the sudden contact.</p><p>“Let me see,” Sephiroth said, and though the statement was an obvious command, the General’s gloved fingers tentatively brushed Cloud’s wrist, almost as if asking for permission.</p><p>Cloud could do nothing else but nod. Sephiroth moved slowly, taking Cloud’s wrist in his right hand, and his fingers with his left, using the leverage to maneuver the joint in circles. There were tiny flickers of pain from the assessing motions that left the blond wincing, which Sephiroth seemed to take note of. Finally, the man stopped, though he did not let go of Cloud’s hand.</p><p>“You may have sprained it, though it does not appear that it is serious. I have a Restore in my office, and that should take care of it, if you would not mind following me.”</p><p>Cloud blinked at the odd choice of words. <em>If you would not mind. </em>What exactly did that mean? Still, the blond shook his head, slowly drawing back his wrist toward his own chest, breaking contact with Sephiroth. “Sir, if it’s no trouble, I think I can just ice it when I get back to my apartment,” he said.</p><p>There was a shift in Sephiroth’s countenance now, a slight creasing of his brow, an odd imperfection – though what it meant exactly, Cloud did not know. “That may not be enough,” the man cautioned. “You have been pushing yourself significantly, and this may lead to further injury if not properly taken care of.”</p><p>Cloud met the General’s gaze carefully. Part of him hated this – that his weakness led to this, and he wanted nothing else but to bolt out of that room and bury his head into his mattress to escape the embarrassment. But if Sephiroth was right, Cloud could not afford to exacerbate the damage further, not when he was just starting out, not when he was finally positioning himself as a real SOLDIER. As it were, if tonight would be the last time Sephiroth would be willing to train him, he might as well let his time with the man last a little longer.</p><p>So, Cloud nodded, allowed himself to be pulled upright by the General to avoid putting more weight on his hand. Sephiroth picked up both training swords, stored them in their proper place near the entrance of the room and gestured for Cloud to follow him to the elevators. The blond did so, boots shuffling quietly along. He noted how Sephiroth slowed his considerably longer stride to allow him to keep pace, the pattern evident all the way from training room, to the elevator, and then to the man’s office.</p><p>Sephiroth flicked on the switch near the door, and soft, yellow light gleamed from the ceiling and from the lamp stationed just so at the right corner of the desk. While the man moved toward the back corner of the room, which contained a small, but impressive display of materia and equipment (a mini-personal armory, Cloud realized), the blond took a moment to scan the space. The office was as impeccably maintained as the man itself, with two chairs placed in front of the desk, a leather couch and a coffee table toward the center, and filled bookshelves lining the left and right walls. But what really caught Cloud’s attention was the view behind the desk: the wall was all glass, with Midgar lights sparkling and twinkling from below. It was so enticing that Cloud did not realize he had crossed the whole threshold and walked his way over to the window to get a better look until he had already done so.</p><p>“Strife,” Sephiroth said. The man had a green glowing orb in his left hand, which Cloud recognized was probably a fully mastered Restore. “Your wrist, please?”</p><p>“Sorry, sir,” Cloud said, still not quite tearing his eyes away from the city. Midgar smog prevented any such clear view of the stars above, but the way the city and its buildings were alight below made it almost seem like the universe had flipped up-side down. Cloud had never seen anything like it. The whole visage was just beyond what anyone in small-town Nibelheim could have dreamed of.</p><p>Sephiroth seemed to realize the source of Cloud’s preoccupation. “Yes, this view. It is my favorite thing about this office.”</p><p>That finally tore Cloud’s attention away from the glass, the fact that the man suddenly, and without warning, shared an oddly personal detail about himself. The blond found himself wanting to encourage that effort. “Yeah, I can see why. The city, it looks so beautiful from here.”</p><p>Sephiroth stepped closer, taking Cloud’s wrist into his hand once more. “Hm,” he said, starting the spell. Cloud began to feel the magic wash over him, the tingling in his wrist warm and soothing. When he was finished, Sephiroth paused for a few moments more to examine the joint, just to make sure there was no lingering injury.</p><p>“Not all that glitters is gold,” Sephiroth murmured, though Cloud was not sure if he meant to say that thought aloud.</p><p>He did though, which only made Cloud even more curious. It had occurred to the blond that he was spending all this time with this man over the past handful of weeks, and he still hardly knew anything about him that wasn’t from the rumor mill or constructed from Shinra PR. Maybe it was time he tried to learn more.</p><p>“My mom sometimes says the same thing, about Nibelheim,” Cloud said, trying to prolong the moment. “Everyone talks about the magic of a small town, but it can be suffocating, sometimes.”</p><p>Sephiroth’s green eyes flitted to Cloud’s blue, and the blond could see a little bit of wonder in the edges of that gaze. It was similar to the first time they properly met, in the training room, searching and expectant. But there was nothing malicious about it, and it lacked the edge that made the blond so nervous before. Cloud questioned if it was just the aftereffects of the cure spell that made him feel, strangely comfortable and safe in the moment.</p><p>“Is that why you left?” Sephiroth asked, and Cloud couldn’t help the odd swell in his chest when he recognized that Sephiroth seemed to want to keep talking, too.</p><p>Cloud nodded. “Yeah. It wasn’t all bad, but it wasn’t all good either. I didn’t fit in, really. I always wondered if maybe I was meant for something else.”</p><p>The response was startling, sudden, and sweet, and it made Cloud’s world grind to a complete halt. Because then, the General smiled, just an upturn of lips that was so subtle Cloud was almost sure he imagined it. He also realized that Sephiroth had yet to let go of his wrist, because the man had gently squeezed it for a moment before releasing him. The odd spark in Sephiroth’s eye, the small smile – it all seemed to indicate that the man had found Cloud’s comment amusing, like an inside joke that the blond wasn’t privy too. It would have irritated Cloud, had he not been distracted by the fact that he somehow managed to make General Sephiroth, Demon of Wutai, <em>smile</em>.</p><p>“Strife, if you are looking for confirmation, you needn’t search hard. Zack was right, about you being a great fit for SOLDIER,” Sephiroth said, stepping back. He regarded Cloud with a serious and genuine expression. “Your skill is impressive, and your ability to persevere and learn, even more so.”</p><p>The words were almost too much to handle. All Cloud could manage in reply was a quiet, “Oh.” The blond could feel his cheeks heat up immediately at the compliment. He cursed inwardly at himself – he was not some idiotic fan, not anymore, despite the poster that still hung in his childhood bedroom. He tried to force his brain to process, his mouth to say something else, and managed a garbled, “Uh, thanks, sir?”</p><p>For his part, Sephiroth seemed to pick up on the discomfort, and backtracked to explain himself. “I only mention it, because you need not push yourself as hard as you do, especially this early in your SOLDIER career. I do not wish to cause you injury.”</p><p>The mere notion that Sephiroth would blame himself even marginally for what had happened today made something twist in Cloud’s chest. “You didn’t. That was me. You’re right, I need to take better care of myself.” He paused, made sure the General was looking straight at him, so that the assurance would stick. “I will, sir. I promise.”</p><p>Sephiroth appeared to take him for his word, nodding once. “Good. Then have a good night, Strife. I’ll see you tomorrow. Will you need assistance getting back?”</p><p>Cloud shook his head, watched as Sephiroth put away the Restore materia and returned to sit at his desk, lighting up his monitor. He took the movements as a sign that he should probably leave, but there was something that was still bothering Cloud. He could not quite put his finger on it, though, and did not want to overstay his welcome, so he began walking toward the door, wracking his brain, and hoping it would come to him before he left.</p><p>Luckily, it did, like a sudden lightning bolt, the moment Cloud opened the office door to leave. He turned around, combat boots clicking with the movement on the hardwood. “Sir?” he said, perhaps a little too loudly, because Sephiroth looked slightly startled. The man glanced upward.</p><p>“Yes, Strife?”</p><p>There it was, the thing that was bothering Cloud all day. “You can call me Cloud, sir, if you want to,” he said, waiting and watching for Sephiroth’s reaction.</p><p>There was no mistaking it this time – it wasn’t subtle. Bewilderment, wonder, surprise. It was soft, and, Cloud had to admit, a little endearing too.</p><p>“Then, please, call me Sephiroth,” the General replied.  </p><p>It was now Cloud’s turn to smile. “Good night then, Sephiroth,” he said, before exiting the office and closing the door behind him. His heart didn’t stop thumping, until long after he made his way into his apartment and tried (and failed) to fall asleep.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So they've made the major relationship step of....calling each other by their first names! (I love these dorks). </p><p>Hope you enjoyed! Things start to get more dramatic and exciting in the next installment....</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Steel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cloud gets his first mako injection. Sephiroth and Zack have an awkward heart-to-heart. Cloud also begins to realize the downside of being the famous General's first and only protégé -- with devastating consequences.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>An update a day early! It's partly a gift because the feedback I've been getting on this fic has been so wonderful and so motivating. Thank you all so much for your kind words and thoughts. As always, they are so appreciated. </p><p>But really, I wanted to let you guys have this chapter for a little longer because I won't be updating next week. It's for a good reason: I will be editing and posting one-shots for Sefikura Week. Thus, while not Atropos-verse per se, there will still be some new Sefikura content for you to enjoy! </p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Implied human experimentation, signs of anxiety and depression and grief, hints of Shinra being a shady place to work, some violent action, and a severe injury happening to a major character at the end of the chapter (don't worry, he gets better).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Is it supposed to feel like I’m dying? Because it feels like I’m dying.”</p><p>Cloud could hear Zack trying (and failing) to suppress his laughter. He would have raised his arm to smack his friend in the face, if not for the fact that both hands were currently draped over his eyes in order to save himself from the dizzying lights of his apartment. How was it possible, to feel this nauseous? It was like the worse bout of motion sickness he had ever had in his life, multiplied a thousand-fold. Every nerve in his body felt sensitive and taut, like a single pull would unravel him completely, and even the soft sweatshirt his mother had sent him as a gift scraped like sandpaper against skin.</p><p>“You aren’t dying, Cloud,” Zack said, his tone somewhere between humor and comfort (but very much so leaning toward humor). “It’ll go away soon, I promise.”</p><p>“How soon?” Cloud whined. “Before or after this mako injection kills me?”</p><p>“Before.”</p><p>Cloud was not convinced, but he did manage an “Ugh,” while another wave of nausea pulsed through him. He turned his body toward the back of the couch, pressing his head against the fabric and gripping the pillows a little more tightly. There was no way around it – this feeling absolutely sucked, and the fact that he would have to get another two injections over the course of the next few weeks singularly heightened his sickness. His only consolation was that once it was over, it would be worth it. He would achieve what he came here for, a truth he once could only imagine while daydreaming and staring out the windows of his childhood. He would finally be a real SOLDIER.</p><p>Behind him, Zack chuckled, though every sound seemed strained and filtered through the pained buzzing in Cloud’s ears. The other man was sitting on the floor next to the couch, a water bottle perched next to him on the wooden coffee table that Cloud had bought at one of the Midgar flea markets in Sector 8. The new Third Classes had been instructed to make sure that another SOLDIER watched them in the hours following the first injection, as a precaution against unusual side-effects (what counted as unusual, Cloud did not know, but they had been supplied a dauntingly long list of potential symptoms that would have made any person, even if just briefly, second guess whole thing). Though Cloud had made a few friends since his time in the program, because most of them were in his class and also receiving injections, he decided to call Zack. The Lieutenant was beyond delighted, if only because new SOLDIERs who just received their injections were often prone to doing or saying embarrassing things, and Zack wanted nothing more than to “bear witness on this momentous occasion.”</p><p>Though, with the way Cloud was feeling right now, he was sure his body would not be up to doing anything remotely humiliating for a while. He had barely made it back to his apartment before the urge to puke shot right through him – in fact, the blond had to throw up in the kitchen sink because it was closer to his front door than the bathroom. And while the vomiting had ceased an hour ago, Cloud still felt uncomfortably sick enough that any significant movement seemed like an impossibility. Regardless, Zack had been quite entertained at his moaning and complaining, stifling laughter the entire time while cleaning up the mess in the kitchen and helping Cloud settle on the couch in the living room.</p><p>“You kind of look like a baby chocobo,” the Lieutenant said, though he did not reach out to pet the blond spikes, probably because he knew that would make Cloud feel worse. “A very adorable, very sick baby chocobo.”</p><p>Muffled and into the pillow, Cloud commented, “Baby chocobos bite.”</p><p>“Oh, I bet you do, Spikey.”</p><p>Cloud groaned back, his version of asking Zack to shut the hell up.</p><p>Grinning, the Lieutenant reached for the water bottle and was about to prompt the blond to drink it, when a quiet knock on the door interrupted his motion. Cloud poked his head out from his pillow, looking for all the world like a surly chocobo insulted to have had its rest interrupted.</p><p>“You not expecting anyone?” Zack said, clearly curious himself.</p><p>“No,” replied Cloud. He tried sitting up and regretted it, collapsing back on the couch with another exasperated moan.</p><p>Another chuckle. “I’ll get it,” Zack offered. He got up from the floor and crossed the small living room, removing the deadbolt before opening the door. Once there, he stopped.</p><p>Despite the swirling in his head, Cloud recognized that the Zack’s sudden silence meant that something was amiss. He lifted the pillow again, shifting his head slightly to glance at the doorway, and immediately, his heart skipped a beat.</p><p>“Sephiroth,” Cloud breathed, trying to move so that he didn’t look like a complete mess on the couch. He suddenly felt very self-conscious, and that feeling managed to overwhelm the nausea, if even just for a moment. “Uh…hello.”</p><p>For his part, the General did not seem to mind Cloud’s current state of disarray. He himself appeared much more casual than usual, in dark jeans, a navy shirt and a black coat. It was odd, seeing Sephiroth for the first time out of his normal and iconic attire, but Cloud found that he liked it.</p><p>“Cloud,” Sephiroth said in return. Zack had stepped aside and let the man into the apartment, and if the black-haired man was amused before, he was positively cracking with delight now. Neither of the two paid him any mind, however.</p><p>“I heard you received your first injection. How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Fine,” Cloud replied, trying to sit up. But his body was decidedly uncooperative, and all he managed to accomplish was to flail about for a second before gracelessly knocking one of the couch pillows to the living room floor.</p><p>Behind Sephiroth, Zack sniggered, an exaggerated smirk forming on his lips. “That is not what you said earlier, Spike. You said you were <em>dying.</em>”</p><p>“Shut it!”</p><p>“Have the symptoms been serious?” Sephiroth interjected, turning his head to regard his Lieutenant. His expression was oddly genuine, obvious concern laced in his tone.</p><p>That look had somehow managed to cut through the puppy’s excitable energy. Zack paused, staring at his superior officer, assessing and curious. But after a beat, the other man softened and he replied reassuringly, “Just a little vomiting that stopped a while ago. Trust me, even sick, Cloud’s still as stubborn as ever.”</p><p>“I’m right here, you know,” Cloud grumbled.  </p><p>And yet, Sephiroth now seemed to need a little more convincing, shifting toward the blond with the intent of examining him himself. He kneeled next to the couch and then paused, allowing his hand to hover over Cloud’s forehead, waiting for permission to touch. Outside of their spars, that was a habit that Cloud had noticed – Sephiroth checked himself, constantly, as if fully aware of his unreal strength and its potential undesired consequences. The abundance of caution, the constant fettered control, it was admirable and, if Cloud were being honest, a little sad, too.</p><p>He nodded his assent, letting Sephiroth brush back his bangs from his forehead to get a closer look at his eyes. There, the man’s gaze remained for a moment longer, indecipherable thoughts dancing behind green irises, before sweeping over his body to search for anything else unusual. The touch felt soothing and warm, like a summer breeze on a pleasant afternoon, and Cloud found he did not want Sephiroth to pull away. But of course, as soon as that thought sparked through his mind, the General stepped back and let go.</p><p>“You are feverish. It is not uncommon for SOLDIERs to experience illness as a result of the injections, but it is unfortunately on the poorer end of the spectrum of reactions we typically see.”</p><p>The man looked just shy of <em>worried</em>, and while Cloud had seen Sephiroth concerned over him before, it was still surreal to know that the General actually regarded him at all, much less cared for him. The urge to assure the man, to take away that worry, beat through Cloud, but the blond knew better than to try and reach out in his uncoordinated state. So instead, Cloud settled for a cheesy attempt at a joke and a half-hearted grin. “Just my luck then.”   </p><p>It took a moment, but then it happened: Sephiroth gave another one of his rare soft smiles. It had become a habit of Cloud’s now, since he first saw it that night in Sephiroth’s office. He often found himself trying to do or say things to elicit that expression as often as he could. And though the smiles became less and less rare, the feeling they sent through Cloud remained just as moving, just as sweet.  </p><p>“Lucky, indeed,” Sephiroth added. “There have been some Third Classes that end up in much more embarrassing situations. Such as the Lieutenant here.”</p><p>Zack barked, “I thought that all those videos were deleted!”</p><p>The thought of Zack, younger and somehow more ridiculous than he was now, was just too amusing an image to pass up. “What did he do?” asked Cloud.</p><p>The Lieutenant immediately went on the defensive. “C’mon, Seph,” he appealed. “Think about the SOLDIER honor!”</p><p>“Cloud is also in SOLDIER,” Sephiroth pointed out, amusement tilting in voice.</p><p>“Then, Wutai war buddies honor?”</p><p>Sephiroth smiled again, this time one that went all the way to his sparkling eyes, and Cloud definitely felt a lot less nauseous seeing that. The General turned to Zack, an eyebrow subtly quirked. “Alright. I suppose I have to honor that pact, after all. My apologies, Cloud.”</p><p>Zack let out something close to a sigh of relief, while Cloud merely shook his head lightly. “That’s okay,” the blond whispered. “You can tell me later, when he’s not around.”</p><p>“I heard that!”</p><p>Sephiroth let out a soft breath – almost a laugh. He picked up the pillow that had fallen to the floor and handed it back to Cloud as he stood. “I am glad you are doing well, Cloud. Just get some rest. Please call if you need anything.”</p><p>Cloud caught Sephiroth studying his eyes once more, in that odd and searching manner that he slipped into every so often. But after all this time, after the two months of getting to know the man that gaze belonged to, it failed to bother Cloud as much as it did before.</p><p>“Okay,” Cloud said, smiling in return. “Thanks for checking on me.”</p><p>Zack stepped up. “I’ll walk you out, Seph.”</p><p>Cloud watched the two of them move toward his door, his heart feeling fuller than it had ever before. Was this really his life? The top SOLDIERs concerned over his wellbeing, both of whom had taught him, trained him, helped him. It was a study in contrasts from his life when he first arrived in the city a year ago, or even in Nibelheim, where it was only him and his mother against the world. He was not alone anymore. He wasn’t struggling and wallowing in his own mediocrity, listening endlessly to the voice in his mind telling him he was nothing, that he would stay nothing. He mattered. Somehow, to these two titans, he mattered. Despite the sickness, the buzz in his head, the twist in his stomach, Cloud knew, deep in his heart, that he would do anything to prove that he was worthy of this moment.</p><p>Cloud closed his eyes and buried his head back into the pillows of the couch.</p><p>---</p><p>Sephiroth knew Zack at least enough to understand that the young man had walked him out because wanted to talk. So, he waited in the hallway outside of Cloud’s apartment, until Zack finally stopped fidgeting and worked up enough courage to say what he wanted to say.</p><p>“So,” the man began, clearly trying to find some easier way to inch into the conversation, but evidently realizing that there was not any. “What’s up with you and Cloud?”</p><p>This had been exactly what Sephiroth had been expecting, ever since Zack got that excited glint in his eyes the first time Sephiroth saw the blond’s file. At first, he had assumed the Lieutenant was excited over the idea that the friend he was invested in had managed to make a good impression on him, in his capacity as their superior officer. But after a few weeks of training Cloud, of having Zack bound into his office (always uninvited, somehow, despite the secretary posted outside his door) to ask about Cloud’s progress, the conversation shifted. Zack’s questioning stopped being about Cloud and his career and more about how Sephiroth felt about him, instead.</p><p>While Sephiroth was inexperienced when it came to people, he was far from dense. It became obvious that Zack was mistaking his interest in Cloud as possible romantic attraction, which, if Sephiroth was being truthful with himself, was not as far a leap as he would dare admit. Over the two months of working with the blond, he had become undeniably more intrigued by him. There was that strength that first caught his eye, but there was also a wonderful softness that together melded into a fierce protective instinct. The combination reminded him, strangely, of both Genesis and Angeal all at once, and the familiarity made spending time with Cloud easy in a way it never was for Sephiroth with other people.</p><p>And to top it off, there was no denying that Cloud was physically alluring, in a completely guileless and unsuspecting way. Especially his eyes – Sephiroth had never seen eyes like that, bright even before the glow of mako made them absolutely brilliant. He could not help but stare, seeing the way that the first injection rendered the shine of Cloud’s eyes so vivid, like starlight in the dark universe.</p><p>But the new eyes also reminded Sephiroth even more so of the Cloud that killed him in his dreams. Though the real Cloud certainly had a far way to go in terms of even matching Sephiroth’s skill, he was a fast learner and had an instinct for the sword that was equal parts surprising and impressive. It was just unfortunate that Cloud often failed to see that gift in himself; on rare occasions, the blond’s frustration would slip through his usual silent determination, in an errant curse or a careless toss of the training sword. But no matter what, even if he had to punch the mats once or twice to let out his anger, Cloud would still get up, still grasp his blade, still demand, “Again.”</p><p>That unbreakable nature: that was a power that even Sephiroth could not claim that he possessed.</p><p>In the end, while Sephiroth understood there was some growing affection present, it was most definitely muddled by the messages sent in his dreams. They had not abated in the slightest since he had taken to training the blond: in fact, sometimes they grew more violent, showing him images of whole words on fire at his hands, of people begging for a mercy which his body would refuse to give them. Those nights, he would wake up in a cold sweat, with shaking hands and a thousand questions. But in the weeks since discovering Cloud’s existence, Sephiroth had grown no closer to finding any answers. He was beginning to wonder if he was on the verge of some breakdown…and in truth, he was not sure if he was trying to prevent it or accelerate it.</p><p>It had occurred to Sephiroth that he had allowed himself to indulge in the distraction Cloud provided, for maybe too long. Perhaps he ought to distance himself, search another avenue for answers about these dreams, gather more information so that he could best determine how to proceed (though he supposed that required him to dig deep and ascertain what he himself actually wanted – and that was a maze he knew he was rather ill-equipped to navigate). But the thought of losing those few hours each day he had with the blond, of giving up the odd relief he felt when he traded swords with him, talked with him, shared the rare smile with him – it bothered Sephiroth too much to contemplate further. He was growing attached, something Sephiroth did not think he wanted or was even capable of after losing Genesis and Angeal.</p><p>Ultimately, Sephiroth knew better than to express that entire tangle of thoughts in his head to Zack. So, he pivoted, defaulted to what he knew best. “He’s progressing impressively in his training. He’ll be a fine SOLDIER in his own right.”</p><p>To his surprise, Zack chuckled, crossing his arms. There was a knowing look in his eyes, and an eerie delight, the same kind that Sephiroth recognized whenever the Lieutenant had a clever plan or prank up his sleeve. “Alright. You can play it like that for now.”</p><p>“I’m not sure what you mean.”</p><p>Zack waved dismissively, still smiling under his breath. Then, his expression grew more serious. “You know, we never got to talk before. About Genesis and Angeal.”</p><p>At the turn in conversation, Sephiroth tried to keep his face neutral, but there was no doubt that his sharp Lieutenant caught the flash in his eyes. “There are no new developments. Everything is currently under the Turks’ purview. We simply have to wait until their investigation of Hollander provides more information.”</p><p>All this was true – according to the update that Tseng had given him a few days ago. Dr. Hollander, despite his doughy appearance, had been stubbornly silent, refusing to give up information on any pending plots or co-conspirators. And with no Genesis related incidents since Modeoheim, there had been no new intelligence for the company to act on. In fact, Director Lazard had begun pushing for the matter to be put to bed for good, despite the unanswered questions regarding the Science Department’s experiments and the missing copying technology. As if by instinct, the company seemed inclined to follow along. Sephiroth could still see it now: the red TERMINATED stamps pasted over Genesis and Angeal’s photos, their files tucked away in some drawer in Lazard’s office, two great men just suddenly forgotten, just suddenly put away.</p><p>Typical Shinra, sweeping things under the rug.</p><p>Zack, of course was wholly unsatisfied with the very factual response. The young man sighed, put his hands on his hips in an exasperated manner, and said, “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”</p><p>“Unfortunately, I do not.”</p><p>“They were your friends.”</p><p>It seemed like such a silly and relatively obvious statement to make, so Sephiroth responded in kind. “Yes.”</p><p>“I just wanted to know if you wanted someone to talk to about it.”</p><p>Sephiroth looked down at the carpet, to the way the light brown circled around the darkness of his shoes. He was not prepared for this conversation, not when Zack wanted to have it nearly two months ago when the black-haired man had surprised him in his office, and certainly not now. And yet, he could see it in Zack’s eyes – how badly the man needed to talk to him, needed someone who could understand, someone who knew Angeal and knew his pain and could share in the burden of the grief and the guilt that came with his loss. But while Sephiroth was excellent at many things, being a comfort to someone, being a friend, was not one of them, and he knew that because if he had been any better at it, Genesis and Angeal might have stayed and might have still lived.  </p><p>“I am not sure there is anything to say that would mean anything now.”</p><p>“Well, if you ever come up with something, let me know.”</p><p>Sephiroth let his gaze flicker upward. “And if what I have to say only hurts you more than it helps?”</p><p>Surprise flashed through Zack. “You’re concerned about hurting me?” he asked, tilting his head.  </p><p>Sephiroth started, taken aback. He felt himself crossing his arms, almost in defense. “You were in pain, after Angeal. A pain that I forced upon you. Now, I simply do not wish to add to that.”</p><p>A strange paused followed. Then, unexpectedly, Zack began to laugh, full-bodied and full-hearted, from his chest and his shoulders. There was a calm mirth twinkling in his eyes when he said, “Cloud was right. You really are something else.”</p><p>Not for the first time around the talkative man, Sephiroth found himself completely lost in the conversation. “I do not understand.”</p><p>“Just that, if you were avoiding talking to me about this because you were concerned about causing me pain…well, what about your own?”</p><p>No, Sephiroth was definitely not ready for that, especially not now, in the middle of a random Third-Class SOLDIER apartment building hallway. He looked pointedly away and kept his lips in a tight line of silence.</p><p>Zack seemed to sense that he pushed a bit too far and backtracked a little. “That’s okay. It’s okay. I just wanted to say I’m here, that’s all.” The young man reached forward and clapped a hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder, in a manner eerily reminiscent of Angeal. It should have been unwelcome and jarring, but somehow, under Zack’s friendly gaze, it was not any of those things. It was comforting, and in fact, something Sephiroth realized in the moment he missed a little, very dearly.</p><p>Sephiroth reached up, patted Zack’s hand on his shoulder and offered the young man a tiny, but grateful smile. “Thank you.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Zack breathed, letting him go. “Of course, Seph.”</p><p>They stopped for a moment, letting the pleasantness of their understanding settle between them. But then, the restless puppy started to grin again, eyebrows wiggling. “I’m sure Cloud appreciates you dropping by. I mean, he was way nicer for you than he was for me.”</p><p>“He’s always nice.”</p><p>He heard Zack chuckle, could feel that knowing gaze like a pressure on his shoulders. “Yeah, sure he is. You can clean up his puke next time. I have a feeling Cloud would like that better.”</p><p>The General resisted the urge to roll his eyes like a child, something that turned out to be exceedingly difficult around a man of Zack’s unflappable humor. Luckily, the Lieutenant finally seemed to have obtained his fill of amusement for the day, simply letting out a happy laugh and another goodbye, before turning to disappear back into the apartment, taking with him his warm air and comforting cheer, and leaving Sephiroth standing there alone with his thoughts.</p><p>As he stood in that hallway for a moment longer, Sephiroth could not help but tug at the strange twist settling in his heart. Seeing Zack now compared to what the young man looked like following Angeal’s death, it flooded him with relief. Despite himself, despite everything – the questions he had from those dreams, the fear of his own feelings – there was a tiny bit of hope growing in his chest like flowers among the weeds. The hope seemed to whisper that maybe one day, Sephiroth would be ready to talk to Zack, to try again at being a better friend. After all, he had been sitting in his failure of Genesis and Angeal for just too long now. And if there was anything that his time with Cloud taught Sephiroth, it was that the greatest strength seemed to be in picking oneself up off the mat, and saying, “Again.”</p><p>And though he wasn’t there yet, for the first time in a while, Sephiroth imagined he could be.</p><p>---</p><p>It took the whole night, but Cloud managed to weather the symptoms of his first mako injection. The second and the third, each scheduled a week after each other, both went down a little easier – the nausea had become more manageable and Cloud had could actually hold down food a few hours after the appointments. He was still getting used to how his body felt, however. The uptick in speed, in strength, in <em>everything</em> was nearly overwhelming. He had stumbled over himself more than a few times in his classes and in his training sessions with Sephiroth, though both his instructors and the General were understanding. It was actually comedic, a whole classful of Thirds that were rendered as clumsy as a bunch of preschoolers. The more experienced SOLDIERs were having a field day with the pranks, Zack included, and there wasn’t a day that went by in which someone wasn’t accidently trapped in a closet or dangling from the ceiling somewhere on the SOLDIER floor.</p><p>In fact, Sephiroth was becoming something far more than just understanding. Before the injections, Cloud had not noticed the way his touch seemed to linger, like a whisper on his skin, or the lovely way he smelled, mint and fresh linen with a touch of leather. It was as if the newly heighted senses allowed Cloud to capture a clearer picture of the man. Though there were still instances in which Sephiroth remained guarded and enigmatic, as the weeks rolled into months, Cloud now found that he could better discern the nuances, from calm and content to frustrated and exhausted.</p><p>There were unfortunately more days of the latter than the former, so many evenings in when Sephiroth would walk into the training room with tired, somber eyes. But he never took it out on Cloud, not even when the blond would allow his own frustration with himself to flare and lash out. Sephiroth was continuously patient. As he had from the start, the General pushed, but never too hard, taught at a pace that was challenging, but never purposefully brutal. Sometimes, when he sensed Cloud was close to his limit, the man would end a session early, and offer to sit with Cloud in the corner of the room, to listen to the blond talk about his day. Sephiroth was not particularly verbose, but Cloud found him to be a great listener, and he could not help but look forward to each time they met, each spar or conversation they shared. Being with Sephiroth was easy in a way that Cloud never expected it to be. He only hoped the man was enjoying the moments together even just a fraction of the amount that Cloud was.</p><p>But through it all, subtle warnings that the good could not last continued to stir. Because as Cloud spent more and more time with the General, advanced more and more quickly in his training sessions, started performing better and better at his missions, the rumors that he had shrugged aside early on seemed to grow more vicious in parallel.</p><p>“He’s sleeping with him. He has to be.”</p><p>“C’mon, the General wouldn’t do something like that.”</p><p>“What about Fair? Rumor has it he helped Strife pass the exam.”</p><p>“Fair has a girlfriend.”</p><p>“Like Strife isn’t pretty enough to pass for a girl. I mean, you have to admit that he’s not exactly what you think of when you think of the SOLDIER look.”</p><p>“Yeah, even I would tap that.”</p><p>“His record speaks for itself though.”</p><p>“He only got those missions because he’s sleeping with the boss.”</p><p>Luckily, the gossip appeared limited to the new class of Thirds, as the majority of the other SOLDIERs had too much respect for their commanding officers to deign any of the comments with a response. But the talk made Cloud seethe all the same, to hear what some of his peers were saying about the two men that he admired so strongly. It also added fuel to that voice of insecurity in his head that he had been trying so hard to quiet, that he had thought he was finally winning against.</p><p>But it here it was again, rearing its ugly head, clawing back into the crevices of his mind. All the same, it made Cloud want to work harder, push farther, if only to prove to these people – both here in SOLDIER and out there Nibelheim – that he could be more than a bastard son of a shameless woman from a middle-of-no-where town, that he was more than the nothing they said he was.</p><p>It would not have bothered him as much if it stayed talk, but after some time, Cloud had noticed that the rumors were beginning to impact his mission work. There was an instance in which he was abandoned, without backup, on a monster clearing excursion out in the Midgar wastes, and while Cloud managed to complete the task without issue through a combination of luck and his growing skill, it left a bitter taste in his mouth to think of what would have happened had he not been better prepared. He was not about to share these occurrences with either Zack or Sephiroth, however, as he didn’t want to add fodder to the already overworked rumor mill (and he didn’t want to acknowledge the base implications of those rumors to begin with). Instead, Cloud started anticipating trouble depending on his mission rosters, made note of those who indulged in the gossip and those who seemed more friendly and willing to take him at face value. Thankfully, most of the Thirds did fall into the latter category, including a handful that had, surprisingly, asked him out. Cloud was not used to receiving that kind of attention, but he did what he could to turn the offers down gently, as he knew that he could not afford to make any more enemies.</p><p>But despite Cloud’s careful planning, he knew he could not avert trouble forever. He just hadn’t thought it would end up like this.</p><p>The mission was simple enough: there were some construction sites inside the Sector 4 plate that were overrun by a variety of monsters – grashtrikes, ringmaws and the like. He and a team of three other SOLDIERS, two Thirds and a Second, were dispatched one night to help deal with the mess, in order to allow the repair crews to come in in the morning and operate appropriately. Cloud had noted that Kunsel, Zack’s friend, was the Second assigned as their squad leader, which left him feeling optimistic, despite the fact that one of the other two Thirds, Nico, was part of the group that was less-than-friendly toward him.</p><p>The antagonistic presence was only the first sign of what was to come. The second was the fact that Kunsel suggested splitting the team up in order to deal with the monsters more efficiently. He had paired Cloud with Nico, given that Cloud’s stronger abilities would help render balance to the teams of two. Being left alone with someone he did not entirely trust was not ideal, but Cloud did not want to cause more trouble. He forcibly swallowed the dread under a layer of professional focus. The key was the mission, and if nothing else, Cloud knew he could at least defend himself, as he had beaten Nico several times during their introductory SOLDIER training sessions.</p><p>The first half of the affair went fine. The two Thirds made their way through their assigned sections of the underplate, eliminating the monsters in an awkward, but workable silence. But on one of the platforms, close to the whirring fans cooling the machinery that had malfunctuned due to disrepair, they encountered the third sign – a Queen Grashtrike that seemed less than pleased to have intruders in her home. She had friends, too, a couple more monsters crawling in the rafters, leaving the two of them surrounded.</p><p>“Call the Sergeant for back-up,” Cloud instructed immediately, reading his sword in one hand and a fire spell in another.</p><p>The other Third scoffed at the command but after a quick scan of the number of monsters coming out to greet then, he seemed to understand where Cloud was coming from and pulled out his PHS. Meanwhile, Cloud leapt forward, casting fire to obscure his attack and hopefully throw off the monsters from his frontal assault. It worked, allowing the blond to land a few well-timed strikes and eliminate a few of the twisted insects quickly. Behind him, he could hear Nico cutting through some of the other monsters, the man’s broadsword clanging against the metal surrounding them.</p><p>They managed to work together to whittle the threat down to the Queen, though not without accidentally setting fire to most of the room. The smoke was unsettling, and it made it difficult for Cloud to concentrate on avoiding the Queen Grashtrike’s attacks. On one awkward landing, he felt one of the monster’s pincers slice cleanly through the slide of his thigh, leaving a stinging cut. It smarted badly, but Cloud knew it would heal and more importantly, he noticed that the move left the monster wide open.</p><p>There was no time to waste. The blond gritted his teeth, rolled underneath another attacking pincer to maneuver closer, and swung his blade upward. The motion carved the Queen’s limb off, earning Cloud a piercing and monstrous cry. Cloud quickly powered up the strongest fire spell he could muster and blasted the creature with it point-blank. The force of the shot staggered him backward a few feet, his knee scraping against the metal floor and the wound in his leg singing in heightened pain.</p><p>But he had done it. Through the haze, he could see the Queen fall, body disappearing into green whisps that danced with the grey smoke. He had done it! It was wild – the last few minutes left his heart pumping, and he could almost taste the adrenaline, bitter water in the back of his throat. Regardless of the slight ache in his muscles or the cut on his leg, Cloud felt the vestiges of power, of energy, of promise, singing within him. He had been on missions before, but this was the first time the certainty finally clicked into place and he couldn’t help but grin a little.</p><p>Cloud felt like a SOLIDER.</p><p>The moment was interrupted, however, by the mocking slow clap of Nico behind him, the man staring with raised brows. “Wow, Strife. I guess those private lessons with the General are paying off, after all.”</p><p>Cloud stood up, ignoring the momentary jolt in his injured thigh. “Where’s Sergeant Kunsel?” he asked instead, swinging his sword and returning it to the metal holster on his back.</p><p>“On his way.”</p><p>The blond nodded, brushed past the other SOLIDER and started toward the walkway connecting their current platform to the main section. It was fine, for about a minute. But then when he tried to take another step forward, the pain in his leg became instantly unbearable, causing him to keel over and clutch the railing for support.</p><p>Belatedly, his mind made the connection between the Queen’s pincers, the burning in his thigh, the sickness in his stomach, the disoriented fuzz of his brain. Oh, Gaia. Poison.</p><p>“You don’t look so good, Strife,” Nico said, rather unhelpfully.</p><p>“No shit,” Cloud muttered. His head throbbed, blurring his vision white at the edges. Wasn’t mako supposed to make this stuff hurt less? He tried to support himself against the railing, leaning forward to alleviate some of the nausea that pulsed through him, but the entire world started to spin, making it difficult to gain even a tenuous foothold of focus.</p><p>And then, Cloud felt hands on his shoulders, his waist, felt the gravity shift. The next thing he knew, he was falling, and his back hit the steel platform several feet below them before he even had a chance to recognize what was happening and brace himself. At the moment of contact, his eyes fixated on Nico, who was standing at the railing where he just was a moment ago. The Third’s face was warped by something – but what it was, Cloud could not figure out, and he knew he was not going to get the chance to.</p><p>There was a scurry of boots tapping against the metal like a haunting, ugly drum.</p><p>“Cloud!” someone yelled.</p><p>That was the last thing Cloud heard before the white took over everything else.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Way to end the chapter on a cliff-hanger exactly when you plan on making your readers wait an extra week for an update (I am sorry. I am really really sorry!)</p><p>As a teaser and promise for you, there will be some warm fluff in the next chapter. That's the thing about hurt/comfort: the comfort comes after the hurt.</p><p>I know i've already shared my twitter and tumblr, but just wanted to let you know that you can also chat with me on discord: rabidheart#6058. Feel free to drop a note if you got questions or comments</p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Fury</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In Cloud and Zack's time of need, Sephiroth steps up, and realizes that he perhaps is not as ill-practiced at friendship as he had originally assumed.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, everyone! Welcome back. I appreciate your patience with me. It turned out that working on, editing and uploading stories every day for a week was more exhausting than expected and I definitely feel a little bit taxed now. Still, I am very much so resolved to making sure this WIP becomes completed. I hope you all will bear with me. </p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Descriptions of violence, explicit language, mentions of background character death, some signs of grief/depression.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The town was on fire, though Sephiroth was used to that by now – the choking smoke, the heat against his leather jacket, the cackling symphony of color and flame. He began the dream like he usually did, steeling himself for the mounting bodies, the pleas, and the tears, and prepared to watch himself play the executioner in spite of his own heart.</p><p>Something else happened instead.</p><p>He found that he was not moving until he wanted to, that his arms and his legs finally responded to the commands of his own mind. It was the first time in months that he finally had control. When the awareness hit him, Sephiroth had to fight the urge to succumb to the relief. As it were, there were still people crying out inside burning buildings and trapped under rubble that needed help. And instead of summoning his sword and slicing them through as they cried, he could reach for them. He had a choice, and he could choose right this time. That alone was freeing and exhilarating – things he hardly felt in his waking life, wandering the halls of Shinra Tower, raising his sword at enemies dictated to him. Belatedly, he realized that was likely a factor in what made these dreams so distressing, that his real lack of free will had managed to bleed into his subconscious life.</p><p>But those were thoughts for another time. Because, after leading a third family out of their house to the square for safety, Sephiroth realized that there was something missing from this dream.</p><p>Where was Cloud?</p><p>His heartbeat cranked up a thousand notches. Sephiroth scanned the wreckage, the decaying buildings, the curling smoke, looking for those tell-tale blond spikes and those bright, intense eyes. Normally, the Cloud in his dreams would have appeared by now, gaze simmering with betrayal and anger, and the Sephiroth he could not control would disappear into the fire to make his way up to – well, he never saw where; all he could tell was that this Sephiroth was chasing something, longing for something. <em>A reunion</em>. But no matter what this alter ego would do, such terrible and destructive yearning would be left unsatisfied and incomplete. He would stand in what seemed like a metal cage, wires and pipes arching over and running below them, and that defiant and beautiful blond would stab him in the back with a sword far too large for his frame. And then, Sephiroth would feel the relief of the end wash over him until he finally awakened.</p><p>There was no relief now, though, because there was no Cloud. Sephiroth moved, following the path toward the edge of the village, his eyes hunting for any sign of the blond. But the town was eerily empty, save for the fire that continued scorching around him and the heat that pulsed in the air.</p><p>“Cloud!” he called, his voice strained and shaky – like he had been crying, had he been crying? That was not something he had done in a long time. “Where are you?”</p><p>There was no reply, except for the wind and the fire. Sephiroth kept searching, treading up the path that started snaking toward the mountain. It was then, when the edges of the fire started fading, that he noticed it – a subtle trail of blood droplets, sparse but perceptible, marking a path up the trail.</p><p>Something sank in his chest.</p><p>“Cloud!” Sephiroth called again, almost like a desperate prayer. He tried to take a step forward, but suddenly, his legs felt weak in a way they never had before, and his knees buckled, bringing him crashing to the ground. The dirt tasted putrid, with a mixture of ash and metal and mako, and every nerve in his body was numb and throbbing. It took a moment for him to recognize that he was in pain, like his heart had been ripped from his chest, like the air in his lungs had turned to spears to render him asunder from the inside out. Sephiroth slowed his breathing, tried to concentrate on feeling his thighs and knees and hands, will himself to stand upright. His fingers dug into the ground for purchase – and that’s when he sensed something slicking the black leather of his gloves, something metallic and familiar.</p><p>His hands were stained with blood.</p><p>The dread in his chest became that much heavier. Sephiroth couldn’t shake it – the fear, the guilt, the pain, the bracing certainty – that it was his fault. The village was on fire. There was blood on his hands, blood up the trail. His heart felt like it was torn in two. And Cloud – Cloud wasn’t here. Something had happened, something had changed. And there was no one to blame but him, because now, he had control.</p><p>Sephiroth felt it escape his lips before he even realized what it was. A sob. Hopeless, wrecked, and torn. He knew what had happened, didn’t even need to see it to be sure, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure that he would want to. But his mind, ever the traitor, showed him anyway – the image of a broken body, of chillingly empty blue eyes. He had lost Cloud. And it was his fault.</p><p>When Sephiroth awoke, he did so with tears in his eyes.</p><p>For a moment, he couldn’t move; his muscles felt weighed down by a thick and heavy sorrow. Sephiroth felt like he had been run over by a Behemoth, twice, and he had not felt like that since learning Zack had killed – <em>no, do not go there, not now. </em>He tried to concentrate on the feel of his sheets beneath him, the light trickling through his dark curtains, the constant and nagging buzzing of his PHS –</p><p>Wait, his PHS?</p><p>That thought managed to give him enough of a shock to jolt him upright. Sephiroth turned to his bedside table, yanked the offending device off its charger, and flipped it open. There were a few missed calls and unread texts from the prior evening, one of which was from Cloud, which Sephiroth naturally opened first. The young man had sent him an image of a snarling cat with green eyes in Sector 4, captioned <em>Is this you?</em> That sent a wave of relief through Sephiroth that almost made him sigh aloud. This was now, the present, in which Cloud was still alive and on a night mission clearing monsters in Sector 4, and not dead somewhere in a burning village in Sephiroth’s head.</p><p>Then his phone buzzed again, an incoming call from Zack. Sephiroth picked up.</p><p>“Zack, my apologies, I was asleep—”</p><p>“Seph,” Zack said, his voice serious in the same way it was back when Genesis was on his rampage and Angeal was trying and failing to hold onto his honor. The tone reignited the tightness in Sephiroth’s chest that had been ever-present during his dream. “You have to come to the infirmary, quick.”</p><p>Sephiroth closed his eyes and did not bother bracing himself for what Zack was going to say next. He knew, because he felt it before, and there was nothing he could do to lessen how much it was going to hurt.</p><p>“Something’s happened to Cloud.”</p><p>---</p><p>The first time Cloud came to, it was in the middle of the night, and he recognized that Zack was sitting at his bedside with a worried expression on his face. But his whole body throbbed with so much pain that he couldn’t say or do anything to wipe that concern away. All he managed was a choked noise, before Zack called the nurse in to give him more medication and he passed out from a mixture of drowsiness, numbness, and exhaustion.  </p><p>The second time was at some point closer to the early morning, because Cloud was lucid enough to notice the way the sunlight filtered in through the window. His vision was still a little blurry, but his hearing was intact and sharp, as it had been since the mako treatments. He could pinpoint the voices right outside the room, despite the hushed and furtive tones. The first voice was Zack’s, layered thickly with a worry and an anger that almost felt too foreign for a guy who seemed to walk through life with a smile on his face.</p><p>“He needs to go. He needs to get kicked out of the program.”</p><p>The second voice – more plaintive, more cautioned, which Cloud reasoned was Kunsel’s – responded, “They’re still doing an investigation, Zack.”</p><p>“Investigation, my ass. You just said that Nico pushed him.”</p><p>“I said I <em>thought</em> I saw Nico push him.”</p><p>“What the fuck—”</p><p>“Zack,” the third voice interrupted. Smooth baritone, like calm twilight, like warmth. It was a voice that Cloud had come to cherish hearing after their nightly training sessions, offering quiet comments of assurance and comfort after long and stressful days. It was <em>Sephiroth. </em></p><p>The name had left Cloud’s lips as softly and as unconsciously as breathing. But all three men standing outside of Cloud’s hospital room could hear it easily.</p><p>“He’s awake,” Zack said. Relief. Then a pause, followed by, “Seph, do you mind watching him, for now?”</p><p>"You’ve been with him nearly all night, Zack. I know you want to see him.”</p><p>“He asked for you.”</p><p>“Zack.”</p><p>“I can’t.” Firm, rigid, and full of that foreign anger. “Not like this.”</p><p>Quiet. Then, “I had asked maintenance to pull the security feed from the Sector 4 plate. The file should be in my office by now. If it corroborates the Sergeant’s story, you have your grounds for dismissal.”</p><p>“If it does, I’d have grounds to do a lot more than that.”</p><p>Another pause. “Sergeant, please go with the Lieutenant. Then, proceed to the Director to make your statement.”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Kunsel said.</p><p>There was the quiet tapping of booted footsteps on tile flooring that slowly faded, then the door to Cloud’s hospital room creaked open. There Sephiroth was, haloed by the light of the hallway behind him, but he looked far from angelic this morning. In fact, he looked drained, the usual stoic expression marred by sleeplessness and concern. He was dressed in a Shinra branded long-sleeved tee and jeans, and his hair was tied back messily, as if he had just woken up and headed straight to the hospital.</p><p>“Cloud,” Sephiroth said, in that same tone of voice he had when he had come to Cloud’s apartment after his first mako injection. He even asked the same question: “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Okay, I think,” Cloud replied, because that was all he could manage right now. His body was no longer in pain, but it was very numb, almost like how his fingers would feel after too many hours of playing in the snow during the frigid Nibelheim winters. He turned his head to look at Sephiroth and hoped that he managed something that could pass as a reassuring smile.</p><p>“That is good,” Sephiroth stated. The man stood at the wall to Cloud’s right, maintaining a distance that for some reason, on this particular day, bothered Cloud more than usual. The stoicism in the voice, in the choice of words, all too reminiscent of the first clumsy conversations they shared and nothing like the quiet, easy manner that characterized their more recent interactions, added insult to injury.</p><p>“The doctors say that you are healing well. With your level of enhancement, you’ll be back on your feet in a matter of days.”</p><p>Cloud knew he was supposed to be relieved upon hearing that, but right now, he found he was more concerned about the yawning chasm of space between him and Sephiroth. He tried to lift his arms, but the limbs felt like stone, as if his body could not even fathom the mere thought of moving. He figured that he would use his words instead. “Can you come here, please?”</p><p>After a beat of hesitation, Sephiroth unfolded his arms and moved closer to sit at the chair situated at Cloud’s bedside. He leaned forward, his elbows propped on his knees, and Cloud could tell that Sephiroth was conducting his own examination of his condition by the way his eyes had turned dark and assessing. The blond would have shuddered under the calculating gaze if his body didn’t feel like a ton of bricks. Though it had been months of this – of watching the man watch him, Cloud knew that he would never get used to the strange novelty of having the great General Sephiroth, whose poster still hung in his childhood bedroom, pay attention to him.</p><p>“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Sephiroth said, like he often did whenever Cloud would be frustrated and fuming at the end of a spar. It made Cloud’s heart ache a little, made him realize how often the man seemed to prioritize him. Sephiroth always listened to him, always tried, however unnaturally, to find good things to say to him. He came to visit him when he was sick from the mako injections, he came to sit at his bedside in lieu of doing all the important things he probably had to do as General, because Cloud had whispered his name in some tiny wish. And even before then, he had noticed him on some random day in the training room, struggling with Zack on his sword technique and had offered his considerable expertise. All that – and the man had never asked Cloud for anything in return.</p><p>Cloud looked at Sephiroth now, knowing full well that the last thing he wanted to do was talk. Right now, he wanted to listen, to Sephiroth, wanted to hear that voice, buttery and soft, lilting through his head.</p><p>“Tell me how you’re feeling instead.”</p><p>“Cloud,” Sephiroth said, clearly surprised. “I do not think that is relevant—”</p><p>“It’s relevant to me,” Cloud interrupted. He then stopped, stared at the ceiling. The truth was that he was not ready to talk about what he knew had happened, partly because his mind was still fuzzy around the edges of the details, and mostly because if he had to explain, it would inevitably lead to the acknowledgment of those awful rumors, and that was too embarrassing to make real right now.  “Please. I’ll talk about it later.”</p><p>Sephiroth repeated his name, more softly, and it sounded a lot like a plea. “Cloud.”</p><p>“You always listen to me. Whenever I’m mad about something that happened or frustrated that I can’t get a new skill right, you listen and you are there. But you never let me do the same for you, whenever you walk into the training room looking as tired as you do now. So please, just let me do this for you, just this once?”</p><p>The words just came plummeting out of Cloud’s mouth, almost before his mind could even register what he was saying. But he knew what he was trying to convey in his heart, and hoped that Sephiroth would hear it, see it on his face. Well, hope was the wrong word – Cloud knew he would. He knew that Sephiroth would listen. The man just always seemed to.</p><p>“I…I had a nightmare,” Sephiroth said, folding his hands together and propping his chin on his steepled fingers.  “I have them often now. They leave me feeling ill-rested.”</p><p>“What do you mean by <em>now?</em>”</p><p>“They started after I lost some old friends.”</p><p>Everyone at Shinra heard about Genesis and Angeal – that they had deserted, that they had died – but what threw Cloud for a loop was the fact that Sephiroth had referred to the two as <em>old friends. </em>The newspaper stories never addressed the fact that there were real people who hurt and bled and cried at the center of the storm. They seemed to do that a lot with Sephiroth, as if they assumed that the man simply was not capable of those things. Cloud, once upon a time, had bought those notions full-heartedly, and it made him more than a little sick to admit that to himself. He was determined to make up for that failure as much as he could, starting now.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Cloud murmured, willing his arm upward to brush his fingers against the man’s hands. Sephiroth, once again, appeared caught off guard, but Cloud let their fingers lightly entwine. Despite how exhausted he felt after such a simple motion, it was worth it to see the way Sephiroth’s expression softened a little more. “I’m sorry for your loss and for the nightmares.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Sephiroth replied. “It’s alright.”</p><p>“It’s not…but that’s okay too.”</p><p>They were silent for a few seconds – not an awkward silence, the kind that screeched through Cloud’s anxiety like a mocking crow, but a comfortable peace. Sephiroth had not let go of Cloud’s hand, was still running his own fingers against the blond’s in gentle, tiny movements, as if in disbelief that Cloud was still here, still existing, still alive. He wondered for a moment if Sephiroth had worried that he had almost lost another friend last night, if the thought of another loss compounded the immeasurable pain that he was already feeling. Cloud hated to think that he caused that, hated to think that he would repay this man that had given him so much with even more sorrow.</p><p>He willed himself to curl his fingers tighter, hold the man’s hand properly. Sephiroth quietly let him.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Cloud whispered. “You probably already know what happened and why. I should have told you.”</p><p>“There is nothing you need to apologize for. This was my—”</p><p>“If it wasn’t my fault, then it wasn’t yours either.”</p><p>There was a flash of something through the green of Sephiroth’s eyes, which bore straight into Cloud’s blue ones. But they were not searching, not digging for something that Cloud could not name – instead, they were full of recognition. The hands around his squeezed just a little tighter, ever so slightly, but the feelings, hidden and unhidden, were still there.</p><p>“Will you stay?” Cloud asked, squeezing his hand back. “We can talk as much or as little as you’d like to. Tell me anything. I want to listen.”</p><p>And there it was, that soft quiet smile, the one that Cloud was aiming for, that he knew he would do almost anything to keep seeing again and again, spreading across Sephiroth’s lips.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>---</p><p>There was a voice in Zack’s head that sounded eerily like a certain someone telling him that this whole thing was a bad idea. The unfortunate reality was that the last time he listened to the owner of that voice, he ended up killing the man in some abandoned corner of Modeoheim, so Zack was certainly not inclined to do as he was told. Not after what he just saw, not after what happened to Cloud.</p><p>“Zack!” Kunsel called, from several steps behind him. The Second had been chasing him from the minute they left Sephiroth’s office, through the hallways of the SOLDIER floor. “Zack, let’s go to the Director. Zack!”</p><p>“Shut up, Kunsel!”</p><p>The Lieutenant could practically taste the venom in his mouth, dripping with each harsh syllable that he spat. Kunsel, for his part, seemed taken aback as well, because the man paused for a moment. And that was enough, enough for Zack to step quickly down the hall and turn into the Third Class lounge, in search for his prey.</p><p>It didn’t take him long. There, sitting in the back corner, sipping on a soda from a vending machine and chatting with a few others was the particular Third Class SOLDIER Zack was looking for. The blatant casual sight of the man just talking with friends (<em>was this what monsters looked like now?</em>) was enough to send Zack careening over the edge, not that he wasn’t already in clear free-fall since he saw the security footage.</p><p>Zack hadn’t known what to feel – or, more accurately, he felt too much at once, when he saw Nico tip his friend over the railing, saw Cloud’s body crash into the metal grating on the floor below. There was definite anger, aimed at the perpetrator – a deep and haunting betrayal. Where was the SOLDIER honor, when Cloud needed it, when Zack needed it? Did it even matter anymore?</p><p>But Zack was also angry at himself, at his own failure. He played oblivious when it suited him, but he was not blind to the way some of the Thirds under his command treated Cloud, talked about him. He had experienced something similar when he first began under Angeal’s tutelage, but the truth was that that was an entirely different situation. Angeal commanded a type of respect that was born from affection, and Zack had been at the top of his class from the start. Sephiroth and Cloud were…well, different. But the blond, stubborn, proud and willful, did not mention anything that could have insinuated something as bad as this. Zack should have known better, kept a closer eye on things. He should have protected Cloud.</p><p>“You couldn’t have known it would have led to this,” Kunsel had said to him. He had meant it to be reassuring, but Zack was past that. He had been past that for months, the moment he drove his sword into his mentor’s heart.</p><p>Kunsel was wrong. Zack should have known, because if there was anything he learned from the ordeal of this past year of life, it was that SOLDIER was a den of monsters.</p><p>So, like a monster, he moved on instinct. It only took a second, and Zack’s hands were around that throat before anyone could even react. There was a rustling of furniture, a struggle, a thrashing into walls and into the floor, and a cacophony of voices. Someone yelled to get help, and there were a few hands around him – the group of Thirds that were closest – trying to pull him off Nico. But Zack battered them away, changed tactics to bring his fist down on that face again and again. Each hit made his vision glaze red, until he could not see anymore, could not stop even if he wanted to.</p><p>He barely registered his name being called until more sets of hands were around his arms and torso – these much stronger than the ones before. Someone had run into the adjacent Second Class lounge, in order to garner sufficient backup. Like a wild animal, Zack kicked against the three or four guys that were dragging him away from Nico, almost managed to wrangle free from their grip. Kunsel had rushed past him and knelt down next to the now injured Third, casting a round or two of Restore. It didn’t really matter that much – Nico still looked like a mess, bloody bruises across his left cheek and temple, finger marks deep around his throat. Zack’s mind flashed to the security footage of Cloud, looking like a shattered doll, frail and broken against the metal, and decided that it still was not enough.</p><p>“What the hell, sir?” Luxiere stammered from behind him, gripping his arm a little bit stronger.</p><p>“Zack, enough!” Kunsel added, helping Nico sit up. He motioned for a set of completely shocked Thirds cowering in the corner of the room to come over. “Can you get him to the infirmary?”</p><p>One nodded, another supplied a shaky, “Sir,” and the two braced Nico under his arms to pull the man upward. They hobbled out of the room quickly, though all eyes were not on the Thirds, but on the Lieutenant, who still looked enraged. It was enough that Luxiere and the others continued to restrain him as a precaution.  </p><p>“You could have killed him,” Kunsel murmured, the disbelief clear in his voice.</p><p>Zack glared, anger still simmering in his eyes. “He could have killed Cloud.”</p><p>“But he didn’t. He’ll be punished for it, kicked out of the program, even jailed, and he and everybody else who even thinks about pulling a stunt like that again knows it.”</p><p>“That’s not enough, and you know it!”</p><p>“It <em>is</em> enough,” Kunsel insisted, his voice growing softer. It was a jarring enough change in tone to Zack to throw off his anger, the tension in his arms melting just a little. “It’s the right thing to do. And you know that Zack, you know that.”</p><p>Zack lowered his arms, and the men around him slowly released him. He gazed downward at his fists, at the light bruising on his knuckles that would fade in an hour. His hands were still shaking, trembling like they were after he pulled his sword out of Angeal’s body and watched the life slip out of him.</p><p>“Is this what SOLDIER has come to?” he whispered. “We kill monsters, even each other?”</p><p>Though he could not see Kunsel’s eyes, he knew exactly how his friend was looking at him now. “Zack, I am so sorry,” was all the man could say.</p><p>Silence lingered in the air, but only for a moment. Those that remained in the room all heard the click of dress shoes coming down the hall. Director Lazard rounded the corner, his expression completely solemn. He stopped at the edge of the room. “Everyone, please clear the area. We’ll have maintenance repair the damage shortly,” he said, tone clipped and crisp. Then, softer, “Lieutenant. Please come with me.”</p><p>For a few seconds, Zack thought about protesting, fighting back, explaining himself, but those notions passed quickly. Whatever fire that had scorched within him, that had chased him down here, that had fueled the beating of his fists, had now begun to burn out. There was nothing left he could do but comply.</p><p>With downcast eyes, Zack followed Lazard, and tried to ignore Kunsel and Luxiere’s worried gazes weighing on his back as he left.</p><p>---</p><p>By the time Sephiroth left the infirmary, it was early afternoon, and Cloud had been asleep for at least an hour. But he had stayed and watched him, cradled the blond’s hand in his, until he could convince himself that Cloud was alive and still breathing and still there, and that the emptiness that he had dreamed of was just that – a dream.</p><p>He had told Cloud many things: stories of how he met Genesis and Angeal, how Genesis was the reason he actually owned furniture in the first place (<em>for Gaia’s sake, this is supposed to be a home, you are supposed to have stuff in it)</em>, how Angeal taught him how to cook and do laundry. He told him how the three, as teenagers, had pranked Heidegger by covering every inch of the man’s office with melted butter stolen from Palmer’s stash. He shared that when he was promoted to General, they had gone to see the latest production of Loveless, and that Genesis had complained loudly the entire time about the imperfect interpretation, the atrocious acting, the barbaric scenery, and that Sephiroth had let him because he knew what Genesis was truly upset about. But, with a smile, he explained how the next day, Genesis was waiting for him in his new office, lounging on a couch that he had bought as a gift (<em>figured I’d continue the tradition and get you started because if not, you’d be working on the goddamn floor)</em>, and that although the man didn’t apologize aloud, Sephiroth knew what the gesture had meant, all along.</p><p>All through it, Cloud smiled and laughed, his blue eyes glittering and brilliant, even under the unflattering fluorescent lighting. He did not pull away from Sephiroth, not once, their fingers entwined for the entire duration of their conversation. It felt natural in a way that Sephiroth was not expecting, but after that dream and the fear that it set in his heart, he was not about to fight it, and certainly not about to let go. Cloud was here, and he could feel him. That was the only thing that mattered.</p><p>Eventually, though, the blond began to tire, though he fought admirably against the sleepiness. But his body needed rest to heal, and Sephiroth insisted that he get it. So, Cloud drifted off peacefully, his quiet breathing and the beeping of the monitors the only sounds in the room. And even then, for a time, Sephiroth could not bring himself to go.</p><p>It was then that it dawned on him that Zack’s suspicions were probably right all along.</p><p>He would have turned that thought in his head more, but then his PHS buzzed with an urgent message from Lazard about the very same Lieutenant, and it made Sephiroth’s chest twist with remorse when he read it. If Sephiroth had to be honest with himself, he knew he owed Zack more than words could ever express. The man had shouldered his weaknesses, took the brunt of the pain of Angeal’s fall, and though he put up a brave and happy front, there was a guilt edging on those expressions that had been building for a while now. There was a reason the young man had reached out to him, pushed him that day outside of Cloud’s apartment – he wanted, <em>needed</em>, someone to share the weight with. And Sephiroth had rebuffed him, unready, unwilling, weak and afraid.</p><p>Not anymore.</p><p>He typed a response to Lazard, (actually several responses, one of which asked the Director to put Zack in his office) and then left Cloud’s room, made his way to the elevator and down to the SOLDIER floors. Zack was already waiting outside his door, scuffing his boots against the hardwood. The black-haired man looked up briefly before locking his eyes back down at his shoes.</p><p>“Zack,” Sephiroth said. “Come in, please.”</p><p>“Don’t do that,” Zack immediately replied. “Don’t be nice.”</p><p>“I am not accused of being nice often.”</p><p>Zack laughed, but it was not genuine. It was pained. “Cloud’s been teaching you jokes then.”</p><p>Sephiroth stepped by the man, opened his office door. Zack seemed to get the hint and walked in, sitting down at one of the two chairs across his desk (he had picked those out with Genesis’s approval, as they had to go with the couch the redhead had already bought). Sephiroth didn’t bother walking to the other side, instead stood beside the desk, and directly in front of Zack.</p><p>“So, what’s it going to be?” Zack asked. “Lazard said that you had a few things in mind in terms of my punishment.”</p><p>Sephiroth sighed. This only seemed to egg Zack on further.</p><p>“C’mon. Tell me. Just fucking tell me already.”</p><p>“Zack,” Sephiroth said, raising a hand. “It’s alright.”</p><p>“I can’t get off scot-free. I don’t deserve to. I—”</p><p>“It wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>Zack froze midsentence, brows creasing in confusion. So Sephiroth pressed further.</p><p>“What happened to Angeal. It was not your fault. You did your best, performed admirably, where I had failed. But in the end, they made their choices, and we made ours.”</p><p>The younger man glanced away, at the wall, and it was clear to Sephiroth that Zack was trying to hold back the urge to cry.</p><p>Sephiroth kept going. “There were many things I should have done differently. I should have fought for my friends, instead of sending you after them. I should have tried harder, instead of hiding away in fear and regret. I never should have pushed those burdens onto you. But I cannot make up for the past. All I can do now is try differently for the future. And though I am a poor substitute for a man like Angeal, I would like you to be able to rely on me, if you need to.”</p><p>He took a breath, and then said what he should have said all those months ago: “I am sorry, Zack. Truly.”</p><p>There was a pause. The Lieutenant kept his eyes locked on some undefined spot on the wall, his brows furrowed in contemplation. But then, finally, Zack turned to face Sephiroth, his eyes glistening and soft and <em>relieved</em>. “You don’t have to apologize. The whole situation was fucked, everything was fucked. I won’t lie that I was pissed at you, about Banora, about Modeoheim. But then I thought about how hard it must have been for you, too, and I couldn’t…in the end I was madder at myself, for letting you down, too.”</p><p>A tiny smile crossed Sephiroth’s lips. “If it wasn’t my fault, then it wasn’t yours either.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Just something Cloud had said.”</p><p>“That Cloud,” Zack said, shaking his head. But Sephiroth could tell that his expression was softening, his body language relaxing. The man leaned back, his neck craning to look at the ceiling, and inhaled long and deep before returning his gaze to Sephiroth. “But uh, seriously…what’s it going to be?”</p><p>“Probation. Four weeks. You’ll be sent home tomorrow, to see your family. Clear your head.”</p><p>“That doesn’t seem like much of a punishment.”</p><p>“We’re also taking the money required to repair the Third Class lounge out of the paychecks you would have received during that time.”</p><p>The edges of a smile were teasing the corners of Zack’s lips. “Aw, c’mon. I’m still paying for the time I wrecked Scarlet’s machines.”</p><p>“Yes, I would recommend not destroying any more company property.”</p><p>Now, finally, Zack laughed. Sephiroth could not help the smile that slipped from him at the sound. They looked at each other for a moment, two men who had lost people important to them. Suddenly, the weight of the grief no longer felt as heavy as it did before, now that there were others to help carry it. And while the loss of Genesis and Angeal would forever be an open wound to Sephiroth, the two men were also responsible for teaching him what kindness and humanity and friendship looked like. To carry that forward, to build on the lessons he learned from them, for Zack and for Cloud, that would be how Sephiroth would choose to remember them, honor them.</p><p>He could only hope that that would be enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter will also be a bit of an interlude, and then the plot takes over.</p><p>As always, please let me know if you have any comments or questions. My usual haunts are listed on my Ao3 profile, so feel free to reach out if you have anything you want to say. </p><p>Thanks for your support thus far!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Summer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Encounters with Dr. Hojo and Director Lazard leave Sephiroth on edge, wondering if he will truly be able to overcome the traumas of his past.</p><p>Meanwhile, on his eighteenth birthday, Cloud meets Aerith, celebrates with friends, and comes to a realization of his own.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, thank you all for your wonderful feedback. The middle chapters of this work have been tough going for me, so I hope you will bear with me through some of the weirdness. </p><p>This chapter is the longest one by far, mostly because I was trying to put together a few different pieces. (I am also well aware that we are in the middle of winter in real life, so maybe I’m just projecting my desire for warm sun.) That being said, it’s also some fluffy and cheesy Sefikura, because I could not help myself.</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Hojo makes his first appearance, so the human experimentation, mentions of past childhood abuse are evident. In addition, there's a scene later in the chapter that may be slightly dub-con in the sense that the people involved are drunk when the kiss happens.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sephiroth was well practiced in the art of ignoring his pain, but there was always something about a syringe full of mako (and whatever else Dr. Hojo decided to add) that made it much harder to hide his grimace. Like many things associated with Hojo, Sephiroth supposed it was probably an unconscious reaction now, so deeply drilled into him since childhood. Here he was, arguably the strongest man on Gaia, physically capable of taking the doctor’s throat in hand and crushing it, but he knew his mind would never be able to execute the motion. Hojo had trained fear and obedience into him, like a master would a dog, and Sephiroth was far too disciplined to do anything else otherwise.</p><p>The injection went in smoothly, and though the mako began burning in his veins upon contact, Sephiroth kept his face as neutral as possible. Dr. Hojo said nothing to him, merely watched his vitals on the monitor while jotting down some notes on his tablet. It was not unusual for Sephiroth to leave an appointment without having a single word being directed to him at all. Hojo cared extraordinarily little for his opinion, unless it was relevant to whatever the man was studying. And after the first few times of inquiring and the consequences that followed, Sephiroth now knew better than to ask.</p><p>He remained still on the table, waiting for Hojo to signal that he was finished. The metal felt cool and uncomfortable against his back, a contrast to the surgical lights above that burned hot on his skin. Sephiroth hated those lights: if he walked into the laboratory and saw them, it typically indicated that he would be cut open in some way. However, this time, there was no scalpel –only a single needle, and the difference in presentation had instantly set him on edge. But Sephiroth could not afford for Hojo to see that, so he kept his eyes locked on some spot on the ceiling and waited.</p><p>The minutes felt like hours, and all the while, the mako burned, radiating up his arm and across his chest. He counted his breaths to center himself, tried to drown out the incessant buzzing of the equipment, the arrhythmic tapping of Hojo’s typing. Just a few more minutes, Sephiroth told himself. Just a few more minutes, and he would be out of here, and the short hour in the laboratory would fade away into an evening that promised to be much more pleasant.</p><p>He let his mind shift and focus on that promise. Today was Cloud’s eighteenth birthday and there was a gift wrapped in his office that Sephiroth wanted to surprise the blond with. He had agonized over whether he should buy the young man a present in the first place, whether it was appropriate, whether Cloud would care or expected him to, and then, after a flurry of texting with Zack, Sephiroth finally decided to pull a page out of his Lieutenant’s book and go with his gut. The black-haired man was still on probation in Gongaga, but he had ordered a brand-new and top-line sword maintenance kit that was delivered to the blond’s apartment two days ago. When he saw the way Cloud’s eyes shone with happiness at the gift, Sephiroth felt compelled to try and elicit that response himself.</p><p>But the dilemma was that Sephiroth did not know where to begin. He was not accustomed to shopping for others, stuck to basics like bottles of alcohol or chocolate baskets when it came to finding things for Genesis and Angeal. It seemed a safer option than obtaining something that would offend the other party (and Genesis was notoriously prone to offense). And yet, since that terrible nightmare, since the wonderful relief of finding Cloud alive and well, since that warm conversation at the hospital, Sephiroth found himself, oddly, wanting to try harder this time. He wanted to make this particular gift, to Cloud, matter.</p><p><em>You’ve been talking to him every day, </em>Zack texted. <em>You know what he likes.</em></p><p>As far as Sephiroth knew, the blond liked white chocolate, chocobos, swords, motorbikes, pork dumplings, and beef stew. He enjoyed comedy movies and reading mechanics manuals and listening to guitar music on the rare occasions he wasn’t training. When Cloud talked, he could not help but make sarcastic quips, and when he laughed, it was always soft and bell-like. Zack was right in the sense that Sephiroth knew a lot about Cloud, having had observed him out of curiosity at the start. But that curiosity was turning – had turned – into something much more. That was the issue: given what Sephiroth now understood to be a growing affection for Cloud, nothing felt good enough.</p><p>
  <em>Don’t over think it. Get him what feels right for you. The point is that it comes from you. </em>
</p><p>The problem with Zack’s advice was that it implicitly required Sephiroth to know himself, which was a complicated issue. There were so many questions about his past, his parentage, his general life circumstances that he knew nothing about, that Hojo deliberately kept hidden away. Though Genesis and Angeal had encouraged him to begin to explore his own interests as a teenager, there would always be that locked door in Sephiroth’s mind, preventing him from fully understanding who he was. The dreams that had trapped him in the body of a man who looked and felt like him, whose thoughts seemed so intimately his and yet so thoroughly foreign, only compounded his confusion.</p><p>In the end, Sephiroth settled on this particular gift because it came from the only place that he (somewhat) regularly frequented. If it would brighten Cloud’s eyes just a little, that was all Sephiroth wanted.</p><p>But the hunt for Cloud’s gift had distracted Sephiroth from the issue at hand, which was that Hojo had scheduled his appointment on the same date as the blond’s birthday. When Sephiroth had realized his oversight, it bothered him more than it should have. It was proof positive that his feelings for Cloud were changing him, turning his usual focus on performing efficiently and effectively into a drive to be something else – something he knew he was not allowed to be.  </p><p>The minutes trickled by. Hojo set his tablet down, pressed the button for the bindings around Sephiroth’s arms and legs to release. By now, the mako buzz had dissipated, though Sephiroth still exercised caution and moved slowly to sit up. He tested the feeling in his legs by subtly turning his ankles and swinging his knees. Satisfied that everything seemed in order, Sephiroth was about to stand up, when Hojo lifted a hand.</p><p>“What’s this on your file about you taking on a protégé?” the man asked, his glasses glinting from the monitor lights.</p><p>Sephiroth inwardly cursed and hoped that his dread was not evident on his face. Hojo normally paid little attention to the workings of SOLDIER, as he never thought of Sephiroth or his men as anything more than laboratory rats. But if he centered on Cloud – that would not bode well. Sephiroth was certain that his sanity would not be able to survive losing another person important to him to the Shinra Science Department.</p><p>“I thought it necessary to train another, seeing as SOLDIER had lost two of its top operatives,” Sephiroth replied, hoping the focus on tactics and operations would hide the complication of everything else behind that statement.</p><p>Hojo typed another thing up on the tablet and nodded. “I see. And how is the subject progressing?”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>If the doctor noticed the clipped response, he did not comment on it. Instead, Hojo said, almost sneeringly, as if purposefully attempting to elicit a reaction, “I suppose anything would be better than Hollander’s failures.”   </p><p>Sephiroth felt his fist curl against the table. It would have been nice to raise that hand and finally punch the doctor, with the force of all his anger and his sorrow. But he remained glued to his spot, the rage blocked and overwhelmed by his trained fear, his trapped mind. He wondered, despairingly, if he would ever be free from this.</p><p>(But he knew the answer: Genesis and Angeal had both tried, and it had cost them their lives.)</p><p>This reaction, Hojo did notice, and the doctor chuckled. It was always like that – the man held a curious fascination over Sephiroth’s pain. “It is no matter. Let it be a lesson, boy. The sentiment you had for them: do not repeat that mistake.”</p><p>His fingers tightened, but Sephiroth willed himself to remain as calm as possible. There was only one response that Hojo would accept from him, and he knew it. “Yes, Doctor.”</p><p>Hojo hummed curiously, turned to switch off the monitoring equipment and the surgical lights. Then, as a passing comment, he added, “If you can manage to teach your protégé to match you, that would certainly be an interesting experiment. Fascinating, really. Regardless, we are finished here.” The man tucked his tablet into his lab coat and swept out of the room without another acknowledgment, leaving Sephiroth to fume silently in the dark room.</p><p>The thought of the doctor anywhere near Cloud was enough to make Sephiroth want to burn the tower to the ground. It was an anger that was awfully familiar, because it was the same one that the version of himself in his dreams seemed to possess. It was a strange and cruel paradox – that Cloud, who was supposed to be the one to end Sephiroth’s potential rampage, his destruction, could in reality be the cause of it all. Hojo had warned him not to repeat his mistake, his attachment, but it was clear now that those words were far too late, had been from the moment Sephiroth dreamt of those blue eyes.</p><p>But he could not let Hojo know.</p><p>---</p><p>Cloud had braced himself for more derision and harsh treatment, but instead, he was met with far more kindness following his accident. A few of the Thirds that had gossiped about him behind his back apologized. Other Thirds now asked to sit with him in the lounge, shared lunches with him in the cafeteria, sparred with him in the training room. The Seconds and Firsts who led missions he was assigned to had taken to watching him carefully, which Cloud appreciated, at first.  </p><p>But the added concern quickly turned into something bothersome, especially when it culminated into a <em>mandatory time off </em>order. It had been two weeks since the incident, and a week since he had gotten back into the swing of training and missions, when Cloud was suddenly forced off the mission rosters by one of the Firsts, out of a desire to ensure that he would not “jeopardize his recovery.” With Zack still in Gongaga and Sephiroth’s calendar thoroughly booked, the situation left Cloud bored for the first time since joining SOLDIER. At the end of the week, he had woken up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday with no obligations, save for meeting up with Kunsel and other SOLDIERs at Loveless Bar in the evening. The sudden slowness of his schedule was a stark contrast against the absolute insanity of his last few months, and it left Cloud with a strange and restless itch under his skin.</p><p>Because his mind could not help it: it gnawed at him, the thought that this gentle treatment was an overreaction to his fall, that he was being coded as weak and frail. The condescension, whether real or imagined, annoyed him, so much so that it soured Cloud’s mood, in spite of what was supposed to be a happy day.</p><p><em>It’s your birthday and you have the day off and you’re complaining?</em> Zack had texted. He could imagine the black-haired man lounging on his parents’ couch in Gongaga, limbs sprawled like an oversized puppy and expression amused at Cloud’s irritation.</p><p>Cloud had scowled at the message, had been scowling since he rose from bed and began pacing his apartment in a bid to figure out what the hell he was going to do with his time. <em>I’m not complaining about the day off. I’m complaining about why I have the day off.</em></p><p>
  <em>If anyone should be saying that it should be me.</em>
</p><p>Cloud had winced at his phone. He knew Zack did not blame him for his probation, knew that the Lieutenant accepted it as an appropriate punishment. Still, the blond could not help the pang of guilt that pulsed in his heart. <em>I’m sorry. I really am.</em></p><p>Naturally, Zack had replied, <em>If I hear you say that again, I will hit you. </em></p><p>And then: <em>But, since you don’t have plans for the afternoon, I do have a way you could make it up to me…</em></p><p>That message was what landed Cloud on the steps of a rundown church in the Sector Five slums, with a toolbox and some vague directions in tow. All Zack had informed him was that he was to put his handyman skills to use on a project for his girlfriend, and that he had to report to this location for further instructions. It was an odd request, but Cloud figured he might as well follow along, seeing as he had nothing else to do. Still, he was apprehensive, because knowing Zack, there was always the potential for something marvelously disastrous. After all, Cloud would not put it past the other man to leave a mini Malboro waiting for him inside the church, in an idiotic attempt at a prank birthday present.</p><p>Cautiously, Cloud shifted toward the door, and was about to lift a hand and knock, when the wood suddenly creaked, and emerald green eyes peered at him playfully through the opening crack.</p><p>“Hello,” said a voice, like a birdsong. It was pleasant and soothing, enough to calm the edges of Cloud’s nerves. The owner of said voice opened the door more fully, greeting him with a kind smile. “You must be Cloud Strife.”</p><p>Not a Malboro. Just a girl. “Hi. And you must be Aerith Gainsborough.”</p><p>He extended out a hand in greeting, but Aerith by-passed it and went straight in for a hug, laughing as she did so. “Birthday boys get hugs,” she said by way of explanation, grinning cheekily.</p><p>Cloud could feel his face turning a little red from awkwardness, which seemed to only amuse Aerith more. That was something she appeared to have in common with her boyfriend – an airy sense of mischief. “Zack said you needed help with something,” he stated, shaking the toolbox in his right hand. “I’m not an expert builder but used to help my mom fix things up every once in a while.”</p><p>Aerith stepped aside to allow him entry. Immediately, Cloud was assaulted by the smell of daffodils and daisies and other wildflowers, the kind he hadn’t seen or sensed since leaving Nibelheim. He could not help the soft breath of surprise that escaped him at the sight. “There are flowers here,” he said.</p><p>“Yes, there are,” replied Aerith, winking. “Good to know my handyman isn’t blind.”</p><p>Cloud ducked his head to hide his embarrassment. Yep. He could see why Zack liked her so much. She looked sweet, but there was a cleverness to her, a sharpness cloaked by a pretty white sundress. And regardless, between his mother and Tifa, Cloud knew better than to underestimate a woman’s strength based on her looks alone.</p><p>“I just mean that you usually don’t see these in Midgar.”</p><p>“I know, I was just teasing.”</p><p>Aerith began making her way down the aisle of the church, her dress swaying against the back of her knees. She pointed to a rather forlorn-looking cart (at least, Cloud thought it was a cart, though one could be forgiven for mistaking the misshapen combination of metal and wood for something else), with its wheels broken off. The object looked like a child had tried and failed at gluing parts from random scraps together, and the dilapidated ugliness clashed quite comically against the beauty of the flowerbed next to it.</p><p>“So, that’s Zack’s attempt at trying to create a cart for me to sell my flowers in. You can see that it doesn’t exactly work as advertising for a florist.”</p><p>Cloud did not have a keen eye for these kinds of things, but even he had to agree with that. “Well, at least it makes your flowers look better by contrast,” he offered.</p><p>Aerith gently toed a cracked wheel, her boot tapping against the metal. “I’m sure that was exactly what Zack was aiming for. Unfortunately, he couldn’t actually get it mobile for me, so we can’t test that theory out. Sound like something you can help with?”</p><p>Cloud nodded. It was a strange way to spend a birthday, but the idea of occupying his hands was more than enticing.</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>They worked at a pleasant pace through most of the afternoon, Aerith watering, tending to and creating bouquets from her flowers and Cloud breaking apart and putting back together whatever mess Zack had originally created. All the while, the brunette asked him questions – about Zack, about growing up in Nibelheim, about his time in Midgar and in the SOLDIER program. With each passing moment of their light conversation, Cloud found that he really liked Aerith. She had a biting sense of humor coupled with just a hint of naughtiness that was surprising if you took her innocent flower-girl looks at face value. It turned out spending time with her, someone outside of the Shinra crowd he had gotten so used to, was the perfect salve for his earlier bad mood. Aerith’s aura of trustworthiness and felicity for speaking made it easy for Cloud to feel comfortable – so much so that he had not realized he was venting to her about his problems with his fellow SOLDIERs until she had gotten up from her perch beside the flowers, walked over to him, and put a hand on his arm.</p><p>“It’s not a reflection on you,” she said quietly. “I think they might just be feeling guilty.”</p><p>Cloud paused, blinked. “How would you know that?”</p><p>“Because that’s how Zack felt. He says SOLDIERs are supposed to take care of each other and no one took care of you that day.”</p><p>He looked down, at his gloved hand wrapped around a wrench, at the floorboards strewn with flower petals. “It wasn’t his fault,” Cloud said tiredly. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault but the person who pushed me.”</p><p>“He knows that. They know that. Doesn’t stop people from wanting to care for you anyway.”</p><p>Cloud sighed. He put down the tool and leaned backward, bracing himself with his arms. Above him, he could see sunlight filtering through the cracks of the ceiling, lighting the church and the flowers with a warm and happy glow. It was nice here – the air buzzed with such a sense of peace and life. It was like being with his mother and watching the chicks hatch in their backyard coop in the spring. Maybe he truly was still a country boy at heart, if the sight of something actually growing amongst Midgar’s iron monstrosity made him feel more at home than he had been in a while.</p><p>“I don’t get it,” Cloud muttered. “What’s so special about me?”</p><p>Suddenly, Aerith laughed, the sound crisp and light and harmonious. She reached forward to rap her knuckles lightly against the re-built cart. It was much studier and much better looking that the prototype Zack had crafted, the incompatible pieces transformed into a sensible and clean pattern. “Well, I’ve only known you for a few hours, so I can’t answer definitively. But my guesses are your nice blue eyes and the fact that you can build the best flower carts in Midgar.”</p><p>At that, Cloud could feel his face start to go red, though he still could not help the tiny smile that tugged at his lips. “Neither of those sound like real criteria, to me.”</p><p>The girl grinned in response. She opened her mouth to say something else, but then her green eyes flickered briefly to the flowers, almost as if they were whispering something to her in the quiet breeze that gently blew through the church. What followed then was a shift in her expression, like a candle blowing out, a darkening of her countenance that was at odds with her earlier joyful demeanor. Aerith bit her lip and turned away in silence.  </p><p>“What’s wrong?” Cloud asked. There was a bit of panic rising in his chest, the same that he once had as a boy whenever he tried to talk to Tifa at school. Had he said something stupid or offensive? What was Zack going to think if he ended up being a jerk to his girlfriend?</p><p>Aerith did not look at him, not yet. “Do you really think that? That you’re not important? That you aren’t special?”</p><p>That had not been the particular turn on the road that Cloud expected. He paused, watched what he could see of Aerith’s expression carefully. He could tell, from the tone of her voice, from the suddenness of her change, that this was a serious question. And well, after letting him ramble to her about his problems for so long, the very least he owed her was a serious answer.</p><p>“I left Nibelheim for a reason. Everyone in the village, they said I’d be nothing.”</p><p>Aerith moved then, her head swiveling away from the flowers and to him. “But you thought differently.”</p><p>“I guess so. That maybe I could be destined for more.</p><p>She reached for a petal that had blown its way toward them, curling the object lightly in her fingertips. “Do you believe that? That you can change your fate?”  </p><p>Cloud breathed, wrapped his arms around his knees. He thought about himself, younger, scrawnier, a boy from a backwater village with an unwed mother, who dreamed of nothing else but to break free from the chains that Nibelheim seemed so intent on keeping in him. He thought of the nearly overwhelming disappointment that washed over him not once, but twice, at his failure to enter SOLDIER. He thought about how the world sent him messages over and over again that he was meant to be nothing more than worthless bastard.</p><p>And then, he thought about how all that changed.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Cloud answered. “But it won’t stop me from trying anyway.”</p><p>It took a moment, but Aerith finally smiled. She shifted closer, leaned against his shoulder. The warmth from her proximity felt both familiar and sweet. “I can see why Zack likes you so much,” she murmured. “And probably why the rest of the SOLDIERs do, too.”</p><p>Cloud rolled his eyes, but that did not stop the blush from returning and creeping above his neck. “I still have no idea what you are talking about.”</p><p>Aerith grinned, and in her melodious voice, said, “Okay, birthday boy. Wait until your party tonight. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”</p><p>--</p><p>Cloud had been under the impression that SOLDIERs did not get drunk. He was mistaken – SOLDIERs could not get drunk under normal circumstances, as their body healed the damage caused by the alcohol too quickly for the effects to be felt. The solution then was to creat<em>e abnormal</em> circumstances by upping the alcohol content to an obscene level and by drinking a lot in a short period of time – which meant that any outing with a bunch of SOLDIERs was, inevitably, a sloppy and ridiculous mess.</p><p>That was what Loveless Bar turned into, on the night of Cloud’s birthday. The music was loud enough that even Cloud’s enhanced hearing had trouble picking up on the conversation, though the ten or so shots he had been fed in the last few minutes by his peers (“Birthday shots!”) probably did not help his focus.</p><p>He should have been having a good time, and he was, if he was being honest with himself. His last birthday had been spent anxiously preparing for his second attempt at the SOLDIER exam (and wallowing over the failure of the first one), and all his birthdays before that in Nibelheim were quiet affairs. Though he had his mother, and her wonderful cooking and lovely chocolate cakes, Cloud could not help but feel a little alone on those days, as he had no other friends to celebrate with.</p><p>Tonight, he was far from alone. In fact, Cloud was beginning to question whether Aerith had some preternatural abilities with all her hinting this afternoon (or maybe it was just that Zack was a terrible gossip), because it seemed that almost every other guy Cloud talked this night wanted to dance with him or buy him another drink. He had spent quite a bit of time in the evening politely turning down the first few offers, at least when he was sober enough to recognize what was happening.</p><p>But with every drink and every passing moment, the clarity of his thinking began to slip, along with his sense of enjoyment over the evening. Somehow, the strange irony of the situation began to settle on Cloud. The contrast of having almost no one who cared enough about him to want to commemorate his birthday, to now having nearly everyone in SOLDIER gather at a bar in his honor, made the problem all the more evident. Because there was someone glaringly missing from the crowd, his absence all the more felt because Cloud knew, with strange certainty, that unlike some of the people currently present, this man truly cared.  </p><p>“I told you, the General doesn’t come to these things,” Kunsel said, sliding another shot over to Cloud. The two of them were standing at the bar, watching a handful of SOLDIERs jump up and down and chug beers on the dance floor. “He never does.”</p><p>Cloud circled his finger over the rim of the shot glass for a moment before downing the drink and grimacing at the burn of it in his throat. That had been the statement of reassurance Kunsel had tirelessly repeated throughout the night. Even beyond that, Cloud knew that these types of social situations were far beyond Sephiroth’s comfort level. It had been wishful thinking from the start. But still, the disappointment was there, and the taste of it was somehow even stronger than the alcohol.   </p><p>“He hasn’t said a word to me, all day,” Cloud muttered, mostly to himself.</p><p>Kunsel shook his head. Why the man was still wearing his helmet in this ridiculously hot bar, Cloud did not know. “The General keeps to himself mostly, on days he has his appointments.”</p><p>“Appointments?”</p><p>If Cloud could read Kunsel’s expression, he might have guessed that the Second was a little surprised by his question, as if he had been expecting Cloud to know.</p><p>“With the Science Department. He goes at least quarterly, sometimes monthly, more often than the regular guys.” Kunsel then lowered his head, leaning closer, his body language conveying his seriousness. “And I don’t know what they do there, but I imagine he isn’t up for much socializing afterward.”</p><p>The implication was enough to make Cloud’s heart sink. Here he was, moping about the fact that Sephiroth had not wished him a happy birthday, when the man was likely suffering from the aftereffects of whatever the Science Department did him. Cloud himself hated the laboratories, the white walls, the chemical smells, the unsettling feeling of being stared at like an animal by the technicians who poked at flesh with mako-filled needles. He at least only experienced such unpleasantness in passing, now that his first round of enhancements was fully completed. But despite the honesty and openness of their latest conversations, Cloud still had no idea that Sephiroth was subjected to a much greater level of scrutiny. And if what they gave to the typical SOLDIER was enough to make Cloud feel like absolute shit for hours, he could not imagine what Shinra inflicted upon its most prized warrior.</p><p>Kunsel seemed to sense his line of thinking. The man clapped a hand on his shoulder, in a manner eerily reminiscent of Zack. “Hey, it’s alright. The General is a tough guy. I’m sure he’ll talk to you tomorrow. He wouldn’t want you worrying about him, on your birthday.”</p><p>“But still.”</p><p>“No buts. Now go dance.”</p><p>Without another word, Kunsel shoved him toward the dance floor. The blond was about to protest at the movement, when suddenly Cloud collided with another SOLDIER, and in the ensuing mess, he accidentally spilled the man’s drink.</p><p>“Shit, I’m sorry,” Cloud said, wincing apologetically. He glanced up at who he crashed into, and immediately groaned.  </p><p>Roche looked like he was about to curse, but upon recognizing Cloud, his mouth changed into that smarmy grin that veered too much to be charming. “No worries here, babe. I’ll just buy us both another.”</p><p>“Not interested,” Cloud said, making a beeline to return the bar. But it was too late: Roche had found him and followed him, sticking to him like a magnet. It was slightly annoying – Cloud did not consider Roche a bad guy by any means. In fact, the man was one of his first allies in SOLDIER and was competent and easy to work with on missions. But he was also the first to make his leering interest in Cloud irritatingly clear, buying random gifts or paying him obscene compliments. Zack found the whole thing absolutely hilarious; Cloud, however, did not and had tried to make it a point to dodge his fellow Third all evening.</p><p>“Bartender, two shots of your strongest stuff,” Roche called. He scooted a little closer to the blond, who was leaning over the bar and pointedly staring at anything besides Roche. “How’s it going?”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>“Yes, indeed you are.”</p><p>Cloud resisted the urge to smack his head against the counter. The bartender arrived with their drinks, and, just to spite the man, Cloud took both shots and downed them quickly before Roche could protest. They tasted absolutely disgusting. He scrunched his face and grumbled.</p><p>Roche’s eyes widened in delight. “Those are Mako Reactors – heavy stuff, designed specifically to help get SOLDIERs drunk.”</p><p>The drink was aptly named, because it did feel a lot like mako in his body, hot and disorienting. Cloud shook his head and got up off the counter. “I want to dance,” he said, though whether it was out of a true desire or simply another tactic to try and shove Roche off, his brain suddenly could not mark the distinction. Regardless, Roche seemed to take it as an invitation, because he led Cloud onto the dance floor and kept his hands encircled around the blond’s waist.</p><p>Cloud supposed he should have stopped him, but the song that came on was one that he liked, and he felt warm and fuzzy, and it was his birthday, and he was supposed to be having fun. He therefore let the man dance with him, pull him close, let those hands wander, up his back and down a little further. The music blared loudly, pulsing in his ears, tickling under his skin. Everything looked slow and fast, and it was like he could feel everything and nothing, all at once. The sensation was not entirely unpleasant, and Cloud felt himself sinking into it more and more. He hardly registered that one of the hands that had been around him had moved to his chin to turn his face slightly, until suddenly, there were a pair of lips against his own and a tongue poking into his mouth.</p><p>It took a few moments, but reality crashed through the fog of Cloud’s mind. He pushed Roche away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and without another word, stumbled across the floor to the exit of the bar. He heard someone call his name, wasn’t sure if it was Kunsel or another SOLDIER, but it didn’t matter. He needed to get out, needed air, needed some clarity.</p><p>Though still in the midst of summer, the Midgar breeze was cool enough to bring Cloud instant relief. Sector Eight was still abuzz at this time of night, with people enjoying the entertainment and the nice weather the city had to offer. Cloud took a moment to gain his bearings, but to be honest, where he knew he wanted to go was easy to navigate to, as all he had to do was head in the direction of the looming Shinra tower.</p><p>As he walked, he tried to control the humiliation bubbling in his stomach. He had really done that. He had given his first kiss to Roche. Alright, well, it wasn’t his first kiss – he had kissed Tifa once, when they were five and in kindergarten and clearly did not know what a kiss meant. But he was no longer five, and that kiss had not involved tongue. This one unfortunately did, and the mere thought of that moment again nearly caused Cloud to gag.</p><p>But there was another problem with that kiss – the one that made it even harder to breath in the haze of the bar, that threatened to burst out of him if he did not escape. It was the fact that the whole time Roche’s hands were on him, his drunken mind had wished that they had belonged to someone different. When he felt those fingers tighten around his waist, the lips against his, he had not stopped, because he momentarily imagined it was not Roche doing those things to him. He wanted someone else. The realization proposed a dilemma; had Cloud been more sober, he probably would have chosen to try and forget this even happened (and had he been more drunk, he would have probably ended up in more trouble). But the last two shots of the night had set him right on balance, because he suddenly had just the right amount to fuel his courage, to do something about it.</p><p>Cloud quickened his pace toward the tower and hoped that he would get there before that confidence eluded him completely.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p>Sephiroth had a routine following his medical check-ups. It had involved lying down on the couch in Angeal’s office while the man worked or sitting with Genesis on the roof and listening to the man drone out another act of Loveless. But now that they were gone, he had a different ritual, one that was decidedly less healthy. He worked instead, pushing down whatever toxic memories his interactions with Hojo invariably surfaced as far as he could, buried them under paperwork and numbers and mission rosters and spreadsheets.</p><p>The work also helped him avoid another matter entirely, which was the issue of Cloud. After leaving the laboratory, all Sephiroth wanted was to talk to him, which was precisely why the man decided to avoid him instead. While he had opened up to Cloud in a way that he had not to many before, he was still hesitant to share this part of his life – the dark truth behind his carefully crafted existence. He rationalized further that it was probably best to stay distant and deflect Hojo’s interest, to protect Cloud.</p><p>But in reality, Sephiroth knew the truth: he was afraid. If he revealed himself to Cloud, would the blond see him as the monster, the weapon, the specimen? Would he leave then, like everyone else?</p><p>The conflict of his logic and his desires was not helped by the fact that Lazard was waiting for him in his office upon his return from the Science Department Floor. The man’s face was stern, the lights of the room glinting off his glasses. In his hands were two personnel folders, and Sephiroth did not need to read them to know who exactly they belonged to.</p><p>“Shinra is closing the matter,” Lazard had stated, placing the folders on Sephiroth’s desk. “Hollander will be released in the coming weeks, provided he reveals the locations of the laboratories and the equipment Genesis used to create his army. Both Angeal and Genesis will have their names and mission records redacted from the system.”</p><p>The Director had said it so easily, closing the chapter of two men’s lives and burning the book until there was nothing left. What Sephiroth wanted to ask was whether any further investigation into the activities of the Science Department was going to result from the case, but he knew the answer. It made him even sicker than the mako that was then still pulsing through his system.</p><p>“So that is it then,” Sephiroth had said instead.</p><p>“Yes. I am sorry. But this is for the best.”</p><p>“For Shinra.”</p><p>Lazard had looked at him, eyes slightly narrowed, but whether it was out of concern or suspicion or something else, Sephiroth did not know. Lazard had that uncanny ability to remain inscrutable, likely honed from years of navigating Shinra’s twisted halls. It made him a respectable leader, but it also made him difficult to trust. Not for the first time, Sephiroth wondered whether Lazard knew more than he was letting on.</p><p>But there was no time for further questions. The Director had stood up and began making his way toward the office door.</p><p>“For all of us, General. I think it is time we all move on.”</p><p>Except there would be no moving on for Sephiroth. Both the company’s insistence on ending the Genesis ordeal and the visit to the laboratories were clear warning signs. This was Sephiroth’s reality. Whatever he wished for, whatever he hoped for in seeking Cloud out, in finding the young man a perfect gift, he could never have. He was to be nothing more than an object to be used at Shinra’s bidding; to dream otherwise would be to risk becoming a footnote in a redacted file, a terminated target, forgotten and broken.</p><p>And yet, all throughout the day and night, the wrapped present was still perched at the corner of Sephiroth’s desk, and every glance he spared it teased him with the promise of something else. A good friend would have still called on the blond’s birthday. A good friend would not have been a coward. But here he was, hiding in his office, PHS pointedly face down on his desk, not two weeks after he had told Zack he was going to start making better choices, try to be a better man. It was frustrating, how easily subjects like tactics and swordplay and killing came to him, compared to his awkward attempts at simulating being a normal and good human.</p><p>There were a few times in the night when Sephiroth contemplated calling. He would stare at his PHS for a few minutes, flicker his eyes back to that present, sigh, and then turn back to his computer and to try to refocus on the screen. He was just about to undergo another cycle of the ridiculous exercise, when the door to his office opened with an odd crash and in walked Cloud, flushed, dazed and a little out of breath, almost as if he had been rushing to get here. The sight of Cloud cranked Sephiroth’s heartbeat up several notches, though from fear or affection (or both), Sephiroth did not know.</p><p>The blond had burst into the room with a swagger of confidence that Sephiroth immediately recognized as alcohol-related. But seeing as he managed to make it back to the tower and up to his office, it was clear that Cloud was not completely inebriated. Still, it was surprising to hear the casual courage and almost blatant irreverence with which the blond spoke, an amusing contrast to his usual respectfulness and caution. The sound was oddly enchanting.</p><p>“Hi, Sephiroth. Figured you’d be here, even though it’s close to midnight.”</p><p>Sephiroth was not sure how to respond to that quip about his workaholic tendencies, so he settled for saying, “Cloud. I had thought you would be out, enjoying your birthday.”</p><p>“So, you do remember,” Cloud said, crossing the floor to stand in front of Sephiroth’s desk. The General could smell the alcohol and sweat on him, but there were also the usual notes of soft pine and sweetness that he sometimes detected on Cloud’s hair (not that Sephiroth made a habit of noticing it). “I thought you had forgotten, which is why I’m here, to give you a chance to say happy birthday before the day is officially over.”</p><p>The words hurt, but Sephiroth knew he deserved it. He knew he had disappointed Cloud, in favor of hiding behind his own doubts and feelings. The blond’s expression was one of frustration and anger and sorrow and worry and doubt, and Sephiroth knew that look, wore it on his own face many times. It was the fear that you were not enough, the anxiety that someone you cared about would eventually abandon you, leave you behind. Those were feelings Sephiroth knew intimately, and he hated that he inflicted the pain of that uncertainty onto Cloud, especially on this day.</p><p>Sephiroth stood up, walked to the other side of his desk to stand in front of Cloud, reached for the present that had been waiting all day. “Happy Birthday, Cloud,” he said. He took one of Cloud’s hands, which was warm to the touch, and lifted it to the gift.</p><p>Cloud seemed to soften immediately, though his face was still flushed and his lips still pink, and it took Sephiroth more than just a few embarrassing moments to realize he was staring. “Oh. Thank you,” Cloud breathed. He moved away slightly, to place the gift on the desk and begin to open it. Trembling fingers worked slowly, carefully, tenderly.  Meanwhile, Sephiroth waited, watched, and hoped. Finally, Cloud unfolded the last bit of the wrapping, and Sephiroth felt his heart stop at the slow and soft smile spreading across the blond’s face.</p><p>“Sephiroth,” Cloud whispered, slowly flipping through the pages. “It’s beautiful.”</p><p>It was a book that Sephiroth had found in one of the rare bookstores he snuck to every once in a while, a collection of Nibelheim mythology stories and fairytales, with hand-drawn illustrations. The moment he had laid eyes on the book, he had thought of Cloud, of the fun tales he wove about his hometown, its wolves, its forest, and its mountain. The book simply felt like a fitting gift.</p><p>“I wrote a note in the back,” Sephiroth added quietly, shifting a little. “You can read it later.”</p><p>Cloud nodded, turning to him. His eyes were shining, like a perfect summer sky over a wildflower meadow. The blond placed a hand on Sephiroth chest, gazed up at him beneath his eyelashes. “I just – I came here to…” he began, and Sephiroth noticed the way he licked his lips, stared straight at Sephiroth’s own. But then Cloud stopped, instead, murmured once more, “Thank you.”</p><p>Slowly, almost regretfully, Sephiroth stepped back from the touch. “You should not thank me. I owe you an apology, for missing your birthday. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“There’s no need—”</p><p>“Yes, there is. I’d like to explain, if you would let me.”</p><p>Cloud seemed startled for just a moment, but the blond no longer had that strange edge that he did when he first sauntered into the room. The surprise faded after an instant, and Cloud began to sink down into one of the chairs in front of Sephiroth’s desk. “Kunsel mentioned you had an appointment with the Science Department,” he said.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Did something go wrong?”</p><p>Sephiroth shook his head, sat on his desk across from Cloud. “No. Dr. Hojo, the man who runs the Science Department, is someone I have a complicated relationship with.” That was a tragic understatement, one that required a much longer conversation than he intended to have this night. He shifted slightly, stared down at his hands, clasped his fingers together. “You could call him a father of a sorts to me, as I did not have any.”</p><p>Cloud quirked his head. “What does that mean?”</p><p>“I was told that my mother’s name was Jenova, and that she died giving birth to me. After her death, I came to be under Shinra’s possession, under the purview of the Science Department.”</p><p>“Possession? Science Department? Why would they put an orphan child in the labs?” Cloud said, his mind evidently trying to process the hidden meanings behind Sephiroth’s chosen words. Sephiroth waited, until Cloud’s eyes widened with, and that blue bore deeply into his own green.</p><p>The barrier had now been broken, and the words tumbled through Sephiroth relentlessly. “From what I was told, Shinra wanted a weapon. To win the Wutai War, to keep control of the planet firmly in their grasp, I do not know. But I did not have a normal childhood. I was raised by the scientists here, molded by them. A specimen. That is what I am.”</p><p>“Oh, Sephiroth…”</p><p>“The Science Department checks on me, quarterly, to ensure that their investment is still sound. They run tests, sometimes provide mako injections or do psychological and physical evaluations. The appointments are not pleasant. I used to go to Genesis or Angeal afterwards. But they are—” Sephiroth stopped, the rest of the sentence caught somewhere in his throat, and he looked down and realized that his hands had started trembling ever so slightly.</p><p>But Cloud’s hands were firm, steady, and were around his in an instant, small compared to his own, but solid and real and warm. The blond had moved to stand in front of him, those brilliant eyes now encompassing all of Sephiroth’s vision. He hadn’t noticed that there were small flecks of green in those blue that seemed to brighten now with the mako. It made them even more beautiful, if that was even possible.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Cloud murmured, those smaller fingers weaving through his own. “It’s okay. I am so sorry.”</p><p>Sephiroth leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Cloud's, closing his eyes and focusing on calming his sharp heartbeat, on the way those hands felt warm in his. They remained there for a long time, silent and staying close, Cloud’s thumbs running soft circles on Sephiroth’s fingers, each touch whispering, gently, <em>it’s okay, it’s okay. </em></p><p>
  <em>I’m here for you. </em>
</p><p>And maybe it was because of how Cloud never failed to get up after each round of sparring, or the way those eyes glowed defiant and proud and beautiful, or the way Cloud just felt so honest and true and close, but Sephiroth knew that this time, he could believe that.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed this week's installment. Next week, we return to the regular plot of Crisis Core: the attack on Junon. Stay tuned!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Explosion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sephiroth, Zack and Cloud attempt to stop Genesis's army of copies from overrunning Junon. Unfortunately for them, things do not go according to plan.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you all have been taking care in this crazy world! </p><p>This chapter, we take a shift back into the plot of Crisis Core. There’s a lot more action in this one for a change.</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Depictions of violence and terrorism. And there's a cliffhanger at the end!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Remind me never to go on vacation ever again.”</p><p>Cloud rolled his eyes, crouched, turned, and unleashed another roundhouse kick. His target, a man dressed in a red-tinted SOLDIER uniform, was sent flying toward the end of the street. A Genesis copy. Junon was crawling with them, both the lower area reserved for residents and the upper area which housed the military base. It was the first Genesis-related sighting in nearly eight months, and it had caught nearly everyone at Shinra by complete surprise. Those stationed at Junon immediately called for back-up, and a go-ahead squad of SOLDIERs, Cloud among them, had been sent from Midgar to begin to address the escalating situation and help curb the threat. Even Zack was called back a few days early from his temporary exile in Gongaga for additional assistance. It seemed that Shinra was not taking any chances this time.  </p><p>The blond readied his blade for another attack. “You weren’t on vacation; you were on probation.”</p><p>Zack smirked, a Fira spell dancing on the tips of his fingers. He aimed and shot the blast toward a group of clones that were chasing them from behind. “Just say that you missed me, Spike.”</p><p>“No,” Cloud said, cheekily. They both knew that was a lie. Cloud definitely missed Zack, especially because he had not had the chance to really thank him for standing up for him, even at the potential cost of the man’s own career. But Zack looked good – strong, well-rested, reinvigorated, and bright again, almost like a metaphorical weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was also in a surprisingly pleased mood, despite the dangerous situation they were currently facing.</p><p>Zack surveyed the scene. The handful of Genesis clones that they had taken down were all starting to fade to green, vanishing into the Lifestream. The duo was alone now, having separated from the other SOLDIERs in a tactical attempt to cut off the copies’ advance toward the military base. Several other teams were currently clearing out the lower levels, to protect and evacuate the civilians. Meanwhile, Cloud and Zack had worked their way through Upper Junon, and it was almost as if no time had passed between them. Though they had only been assigned to a handful of missions together, Cloud quickly remembered how easy it was to work with Zack – he was the most considerate of teammates, with a flexible skillset that allowed him to effortlessly compliment other fighting styles. They had quickly progressed through the levels, Zack taking point on most of the melee battles, with Cloud switching between casting and swordplay depending on the situation. It was so strange how swiftly and instinctually Cloud felt himself move now, compared to the constant self-doubt that plagued him as a Shinra trooper. He found that he was keeping up with Zack quite well, and that was a fact that he could not help but be proud of.</p><p>Still, after spending so much time with Seconds and Thirds, Cloud remained in awe of Zack’s obviously greater capabilities and speed. The Lieutenant had not missed a beat over the course of his month away; he maneuvered that giant Buster Sword without any outward evidence of strain. It was just another sign of the powerful difference between the Firsts and the other Classes – and even more so, between Zack and Sephiroth and everyone else at SOLDIER.     </p><p>Their current encounter now complete, Cloud turned to face Zack. “What now?” he asked. “We take the elevator to the military base?”</p><p>Zack nodded, but he was frowning a little, trying to think. “I don’t understand. What the hell is Genesis doing? He knows Junon is heavily guarded. Why risk a frontal assault?”</p><p>Cloud knew those questions were not addressed to him. Before meeting Sephiroth, what Cloud knew about Genesis came only from gossip and from official mission reports, and those aspects painted a very incomplete picture of a man that was clearly more complex than words could hope to describe. And yet, neither Zack nor Sephiroth seemed quite ready to fully divulge their sides of the story. Judging from Sephiroth’s descriptions about how close he once was with Genesis, Cloud did not want to press harder on that wound just to satisfy his curiosity. But he could tell that whatever had transpired had lasting and irrevocable repercussions, both on the two people he now considered his closest friends, as well as everything and everyone at SOLDIER.</p><p>“At our briefing, the Turks mentioned Dr. Hollander being held here,” Cloud offered, recalling the rather overweight man from his first mission with Zack in Modeoheim. “Wasn’t he working with Genesis?”</p><p>“Yeah. But even if Genesis were trying to break him out, Hollander would be held in the max of the max security, impossible to get at. Unless…” Zack trailed off, shaking his head. “No, never mind. C’mon, let’s go. Best thing we can do is stop the threat and make sure the base is secure.” And just like that, the Lieutenant was off, his steps so quick, his boots seemed like ghosts against the pavement.  </p><p>Unfortunately for Zack, Cloud did not miss the dark shadows of worry that flickered across the Lieutenant’s face. If Zack was concerned, if he was worried – that said a lot about what might be awaiting them in the coming minutes. But Cloud did not press nor question: instead, he followed, because now he was a SOLDIER, and now, he might be strong enough to make a difference, to do something about it.</p><p>---</p><p>On the whole, Sephiroth was neutral to negative about the fact that most people were afraid of him. But there were times when his reputation became especially useful, such whenever he needed to get to somewhere quickly and without interruption. All he had to do was school his face into that unreadable, stoic expression, and stride to his destination: anyone in his way would scurry off immediately. The obvious fear would have almost been amusing, had he been a spectator to the sight and not at the center of it. But those were issues to contemplate another time. Right now, as Sephiroth made his way through the lower and heavily secured floors of Junon’s military base, he had to focus on the task at hand.</p><p>Upon the arrival of his group of SOLDIERs, Tseng had taken Sephiroth aside and given him the files, had showed the evidence the Turks had gathered against Hollander and his co-conspirators, and had told him not to act until ordered to. But whatever warnings the Turk provided had come far too late. This was a SOLDIER matter, and given the truth revealed in those pieces of paper, SOLDIER was now completely Sephiroth’s responsibility. He had allowed himself to be passive, to follow the rules, to get lost in the bureaucracy, to be distracted for far too long, and he had already lost too many men to the madness. The months-long respite from Genesis’s revenge, the weeks of grieving over his lost friends, his renewed commitment to trying and fighting again, for Cloud, for Zack – those were the signals that encouraged him to bring an end to the saga. It was reckless, and very much so unlike him, but caution and over-thinking had done little to prevent the tragedies that marred the past year. Perhaps a little less thought was now due.   </p><p>The elevator doors chimed open, and Sephiroth stepped out to a hallway containing a series of holding cells, all surrounded by bulletproof glass. Down the corridor and to his right was the particular cell he was looking for. Inside, Dr. Hollander sat on his bed, dressed in a garish orange jumpsuit and with his beard considerably more gangly than usual. He looked too nonchalant for a man in his situation, a fact that bothered Sephiroth more than he cared to admit.</p><p>Sephiroth pressed the button to open the communication channels. “Hollander,” he said smoothly, his usual baritone cracking through the intercom. “I see you’ve been holding out on some important pieces of information.”</p><p>The former scientist looked up briefly, but his face betrayed nothing. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”</p><p>“The Turks seem to disagree, as do I.”</p><p>Hollander did not reply, merely turned his head to stare at the metal wall opposite of his bed. “The level of what you do not know is greater than you can hope to understand.”</p><p>Sephiroth’s eyes narrowed. He supposed he should be used to being treated like an ignorant lab rat by those associated with the Science Department. But today, he was hardly in the mood. For a moment, the General thought about how easy it would be to type the passcode, slip through the door, and spear Hollander through. The man deserved it, seeing as he was responsible for what happened to Angeal and Genesis, for driving Angeal to his death, for pushing Genesis onto his path of destruction. In conducting his experiments, Hollander clearly possessed the same capacity for cruelty and the same utter disregard for humanity that Dr. Hojo displayed. However, unlike Hojo, Hollander hid behind his unimposing and portly demeanor, and somehow, that deception of harmlessness made his actions taste that much more bitter.  </p><p>“Then enlighten me,” Sephiroth said, his hands waving over the keypad, though whether it was to fulfill his earlier fantasy or to dangle the potential of freedom in front of the man, he had not yet fully decided. Regardless, the motion had its intended effect: Hollander noticed, because he finally turned to regard the General fully. “Or at least tell me if my understanding of the situation is accurate.”</p><p>“And that is?”</p><p>“Genesis is alive. You knew that, of course, seeing as he’s attacking Junon right now in hopes of breaking you out of the military base.”</p><p>“That was an easy point.”</p><p>“Then let me bring up my second,” Sephiroth continued. He summoned Masamune in his left hand, with that subtle brandish that always seemed to elicit fear in those who saw it. He saw Hollander swallow, nervous. Good. “The Turks have been interrogating you for months to gather any information you had, about Project G, about Genesis’s plans. Now, you are an intelligent man and Genesis has the advantage of being a former top Shinra operative. But there were giveaways in your tactics, the most salient being this current attack, that predicated knowledge and assistance from the inside.”</p><p>“Alright, second point made. And your third?”</p><p>“Director Lazard,” Sephiroth said. “The person had to have access to funds to arm Genesis’s army, knowledge of mission operations, and the clearance to subvert security and cover his tracks. He is the only one that fits the criteria.”</p><p>Now, Hollander laughed. There was amusement glinting in those eyes. It looked eerily like Angeal, when the man was pleased over a baked dish he had crafted, and Sephiroth hated the sight.</p><p>“They don’t give you enough credit for your mind, General. Though considering your parentage, that much was to be expected.”</p><p>That was a comment that threw Sephiroth a little, as with any remark about who his parents were did. But he did his best not to show it. “The Turks have suspected it for a long time now. I am just here for confirmation.”</p><p>Finally, Hollander’s eyes widened. It dawned on him now that there was only one reason why the General would come down here, why he would attempt to elicit a confession – and whether the motivation was to deny Genesis what he came for or simple revenge for Angeal’s suffering, the end result was the same. That gaze flickered to the silver glint of Sephiroth’s sword. The former scientist breathed out, “Why?”</p><p>Before Sephiroth could respond, he heard it – the click of a gun safety coming off, right behind his head.</p><p>“Because,” Lazard stated, his voice nearly drowned out in Sephiroth’s mind by the cold metallic feel of the barrel of the gun. “He was planning to kill me, too.”</p><p>---</p><p>The front entrance of the base was a mess, as was everything else after that. Cloud was focused on trying to keep up with Zack’s unrelenting pace, but he knew what he was seeing would haunt his nightmares for days to come. His time at SOLDIER had been filled with monsters and maybe a few injuries, but this was <em>death</em>, human death. The bodies of Shinra troopers, innocent civilian workers, and Genesis copies were scattered around, on the streets, in the halls, and everything smelled strongly of steel, blood and mako. It made Cloud want to gag.</p><p>“Damn,” Zack said, placing the Buster Sword back on his metallic holster. He looked at the bodies and the wreckage surrounding them. “They’re really everywhere, aren’t they?”</p><p>“How did they bypass all that security?” Cloud wondered.</p><p>Zack shook his head. “I didn’t want to believe it, but Cissnei was right, then, after all.”</p><p>Cloud recognized that name as one of Zack’s Turk friends, recalled occasionally seeing her in the hallways around Shinra tower. She looked nice, but then again, she was a Turk, and they were notorious for doing not so nice things. “She was the one that picked you up from Gongaga, right? What did she say?”</p><p>“That SOLDIER had a mole working with Genesis and Hollander.” Zack said, his expression hardening. “I don’t have a good feeling about this at all. Let’s find Hollander.”</p><p>“Okay,” Cloud agreed. He geared himself up for another sprint. Zack was fast, like lightning through water, and while Cloud had been picking up speed and stamina, he was nowhere near the man’s equal. But he refused to hinder the Lieutenant, not on something as important as this.</p><p>The two wound their way through the halls of the base, using the stairs to avoid detection and the potential of getting trapped in a metal box. It was an exhausting rush, and Cloud felt his legs begin to ache, but it only took a few minutes for them to arrive at the floors to the holding cells.  </p><p>And that was where their momentum ended.</p><p>“Sephiroth!” Cloud yelled. He tried to rush forward, but Zack’s arms were around him immediately, pulling him back.</p><p>The man in question only spared a swift sidelong glance at them. His hands were up, Masamune nowhere in sight, an uncharacteristic sign of resignation. Sephiroth was standing in front of the keypad beside the doorway to the glass holding cell. Inside, Hollander was watching the scene play out before him, and though the intercom light was off, it was clear from his expression that he was both surprised and optimistic over what he saw.</p><p>But that was not the most important detail. Behind Sephiroth was Director Lazard, dressed impeccably in a blue tailored suit, aiming a gun right at the back of the General’s head.</p><p>“I wouldn’t move, SOLDIERs,” Lazard said, eyes flickering to Zack and Cloud for the briefest moment before returning his gaze to his target. “General, please. The passcode.”</p><p>“Director,” Zack said, frustration evident in his voice. “I honestly really hoped that the Turks were wrong about you.”</p><p>“I am sorry to disappoint,” Lazard replied. Strangely, his tone managed to sound genuine. And yet, the man kept his attention strictly on the General, as if aware that any distraction or shift would leave himself vulnerable to the speed of two First Class SOLDIERs. “I would explain, but I am running on a schedule here. And we both know that the man I am working with is not the most patient of people.”</p><p>Sephiroth’s voice cut through the air, smooth as steel. “Then we are at an impasse, as I will not open that door without answers.”</p><p>“And unfortunately, you are not in a position to ask questions.” Lazard said, finger brushing lightly against the trigger. “I will not ask again. The passcode to the door, please.”</p><p>Cloud wanted to scream; his hands were shaking, and his mind was running a mile a minute. All he could focus on right now was Sephiroth. Despite how much Cloud had progressed, there was nothing he could think of that would save the man from his current predicament. Though he and Zack had the upper hand in terms of numbers and strength, there was no way he could out-run a pointblank bullet to the brain. He tried to calm the tightness in his chest, tried to work through contingencies and alternate strategies, but his mind kept tunneling on the dread and the fear. Because this simply wasn’t possible – Sephiroth in danger, Sephiroth dying. The mere thought of it made Cloud’s heart screech to a stop for a long, twisted moment.  </p><p>Then, beside him, Zack let out the loudest and most exaggerated sigh he had ever heard before. The casual nature of the sound shocked Cloud. The Lieutenant had moved to re-holster the Buster Sword and then had placed his hands on his hips.</p><p>“Gaia, Seph, you’re really going to make me clean up all your messes, aren’t you,” Zack said, his voice oddly smooth.</p><p>“You’ve done excellent work so far, I thought why not continue?”</p><p>Zack groaned. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”</p><p>“I took a page out of your book and tried following my gut,” Sephiroth replied.</p><p>“Yeah well, maybe don’t do that again.”</p><p>“Enough,” Lazard interrupted. His expression betrayed his confusion over the exchange, but he still kept his eyes fixed firmly on Sephiroth. “General, please. If you would release Hollander, we can be on our way.”</p><p>“Certainly,” Sephiroth said, reaching forward and typing some numbers into the keypad slowly. Cloud watched as Zack squatted slightly, as if readying his stance to launch forward. It was then that the blond realized the plan, realized that Zack had subtly moved forward to position himself with each joking and disarming comment he made. In the end, the Lieutenant was more a wolf who played puppy, especially when it counted most.  </p><p>The light on the keypad beeped red for a moment, indicating that the numbers Sephiroth had inputted were incorrect. Lazard looked at the man in disbelief. “Apologies, Director. I appear to have forgotten the passcode. My memory is a little foggy, given that gun pointed at my head.”</p><p>“I don’t know what game you are playing at, but—”</p><p>The brief distraction was enough for someone with a First Class SOLDIER’s speed. Zack was on the Director like a predator darting through the woods, tackling the man to the ground, and slamming the man’s wrist hard against the metal floor to release his grip on the gun. Sephiroth kicked the offending weapon toward Cloud, who stooped down to pick the gun up and remove the bullets. And just like that, the immediate danger was over. The whole thing felt like an inexplicable whirlwind, too fast for Cloud to comprehend. But there was Zack and Sephiroth, completely casual and in control, a symbol of how much Cloud aspired to and how much more he had yet to go.</p><p>He watched as the Lieutenant hoisted Lazard up, bracing the man’s arms behind his back. “Sephiroth, you suck at playing dumb,” Zack said, though not without a small, sideway smile on his face.</p><p>“Yes, I will leave that to you from now on,” the General retorted. Now released from the fear of having his head blown off, he stretched out his left hand, summoning his notorious sword from out of thin air. “Now, Director, you had mentioned that I was planning on killing you. Shall I proceed?”</p><p>Zack rolled his eyes. “<em>Lame</em>. Also, can I move first? I’m still in the range of your six-foot-long excuse of a sword.”</p><p>The quick turnaround in mood was jarring. “Wait, you aren’t going to…I mean…” Cloud stammered. Suddenly, his heart felt like it was hammering in his chest, as if resuscitated by an electric shock. But instead of losing Sephiroth, his anxiety was focused on something different. They wouldn’t just kill an unarmed person, would they? Cloud was not naïve – he knew that both men had fought in the war, and that Sephiroth in particular was famous for the trail of death he left behind him (if the Shinra newspapers were to be believed, which, as Cloud was beginning to discover, they really could not be). They were SOLDIERs, enhanced killing machines. But it was still almost too much to comprehend, to think that either of the men he admired could simply take a life without second thought.</p><p>Zack seemed to detect Cloud’s line of thinking, and he shot a discreet glance over to Sephiroth, as if suggesting that a different tactic was now needed. In response, the General’s eyes softened, and after a beat, Masamune vanished into silver wisps.</p><p>“Director Lazard,” Sephiroth began, his mako green eyes sharp and assessing. He spoke carefully, and Cloud could tell he was trying to layer meaning under each particular word, as if casting a spell. “You can tell me if my assumptions are off, but given your circumstances, I can understand your motivations for betraying Shinra. However, I also know Genesis. He will not stop with the company. The world will burn in his anger, and if you indulge him on this path he is on, we will not be able to stop him.”</p><p>Zack spoke up, loosening his grip slightly on Lazard as if to emphasize his point. “Please, Director. We just want to try and help our friend. Can you help us do that?”</p><p>Cloud watched, as silence fell among the group. Much like their mad rush through Junon, he found himself struggling to keep up. The Shinra news had painted Genesis as traitor, a deserter, a mad man on a rampage against the company that had gifted him everything. But the person in Sephiroth’s stories was a different image. Dramatic, excessive, and crass, but caring and protective. Even beyond the point of Genesis, the details of what had occurred prior to his joining Shinra, that led up to his meeting Zack at Modeoheim, were far beyond Cloud’s paygrade and security clearance. One thing was evident though: neither Zack nor Sephiroth seemed to be acting according to Shinra protocol. If they were, they would have called the Turks, ended Lazard and Hollander, instead of trying to extract information that would let them <em>help </em>Genesis.</p><p>For his part, Lazard seemed persuaded, perhaps because he had little choice in the matter, now that he was in the custody of three SOLDIERs. “Your old friend may be beyond your help, General. This attack on Junon is not just a ruse to extract Hollander.”</p><p>“What else does he have planned?” Sephiroth asked.</p><p>“He wants to burn Shinra from the world, starting with the whole upper section of this city.”</p><p>Zack’s eyes widened. “Holy fuck, he’s gonna bomb the support system.”</p><p>It took a second for Zack’s words to dawn on Cloud, and when they did, he could not help but let out a quiet gasp. Upper Junon was a military installation that had been built above the original town. Collapsing the installation would no doubt end up destroying the lives and livelihoods of those that lived beneath it. The sheer scale of the act was overwhelming. It just seemed so incomprehensible to Cloud, that someone would be so angry and so ruthless to be willing to cause that much destruction.</p><p>Sephiroth stepped up to Lazard, to encourage the man to continue speaking. “Where can we find Genesis?”</p><p>Lazard shook his head. “Once he discovers that I’ve failed to release Hollander, he’ll likely come here to take the scientist himself.”</p><p>There was a quiet moment, in which Cloud watched the gears turn in Sephiroth’s head. Then the General responded, “Thank you, Lazard. I will need you to wait here, with Hollander, for a moment.” He motioned for Zack to place Lazard in the cell, then turned to Cloud while his Lieutenant typed in the passcode and followed his orders. Those green eyes looked tired but determined. For a moment, and in spite of the hectic situation, Cloud was full with relief – because Sephiroth was here and breathing and <em>alive</em>.</p><p>“Cloud,” Sephiroth said, a soft smile on his lips. “I am sure you have more than a few questions.”</p><p>Cloud resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his superior officer. This was like getting thrown into the middle of shark-infested waters while covered in blood, with absolutely no understanding of how one had fallen into said predicament. But Zack had not protested or asked him to stay behind, not once during the hours they were fighting together in Junon. Cloud had kept up, he had proven himself. He was a SOLDIER who deserved to be trusted, and he wanted to make sure Sephiroth knew that, too.</p><p>“I do,” he replied. “But you can explain later. Just give me your orders, sir.”</p><p>Something crossed Sephiroth’s eyes – that small glimmer of surprise, the same one that he sometimes had whenever Cloud said or did something that was equal parts surprising and familiar, all at once. But there was a fondness in the look too, one that was becoming less guarded and more recognizable with each interaction they shared.</p><p>“Follow Zack,” Sephiroth said.  </p><p>Zack, having heard his name, called from the open cell door in his typical happy-go-lucky manner. “Oh, so I’m still in charge? Awesome.” He sat Lazard down on one of the benches, patted the man’s shoulder in that manner he always did, and said something in a quieter voice that was lost without the intercom being on. Then, he spared a moment to shoot a warning glare at Hollander. The scientist, for his part, remained in his corner, an expression of bewilderment and frustration plastered on his face.</p><p>This time, Cloud rolled his eyes (Zack was his superior, but he was still also Zack). But he assented, “Yes, sir.”</p><p>“You two will need to find the explosive device and disarm it, as quickly as you can.”</p><p>“And you? You’ll be okay confronting Genesis? Judging from the bomb, he seems very ticked.”  </p><p>Again, that wonderful surprise. Sephiroth seemingly could not help the small smile that stretched his lips. “Genesis and I…are overdue an honest conversation.”</p><p>Cloud bit his lip for a brief second. He didn’t like it – leaving Sephiroth here, waiting for a man that may have once been his friend, and yet was insane enough to be willing to pursue this terrible plan. And if Cloud were being honest, the sights of the day – the dead bodies, the blood carpeting the base halls, Sephiroth with a gun against his head – it was a lot for him. He wanted to go back to before, to the peace, to Sephiroth in his office, handing him a birthday gift and holding his hand. The fear of losing those precious moments was nearly paralyzing. But his friends were counting on him now. And Cloud Strife was now many things, including a SOLDIER, but he was not quitter.</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Cloud said, nodding and stepping back.</p><p>The moment ended when Zack clapped his hands loudly, almost in mock applause. He had exited the cell without the two of them noticing, and his expression clearly showed amusement over whatever he saw. But he didn’t comment further, instead asked, “Ready, Cloud?”</p><p>Cloud sent one last look at Sephiroth, hoping that the man could see – could see that whatever Genesis said or did, it wasn’t Sephiroth’s fault, could see that Cloud would be waiting for him, could see that there were people who cared, could see that Angeal and Genesis’s respective paths were not the only option. Sephiroth only offered him that small smile in reply, but it was more than enough. A prayer, a promise. After this, they would see each other and then talk. All they had to do was get through today.</p><p>That was what Cloud would hold onto.</p><p>“Yeah, I’m ready.”</p><p>---</p><p>Despite the <em>everything</em> happening around them, there was a murmur of happiness in Zack’s heart, one that seemed to peak when he saw Cloud looking at Sephiroth with those blue eyes that were not so baby-ish anymore. Months ago, there was no way that the blond would have ever been that confident to look his superior officer in the eye, but now, there was a clear change. Zack had spotted it earlier, when he had run into Cloud and the other SOLDIERs in lower Junon, and the sight brought a swell of pride in his chest. Well, if Zack was being honest, that pride had been there from the moment Cloud joined SOLDIER in the first place. The blond was blossoming – the determination and promise he saw in the scrawny cadet who had been the only one who managed to keep up with him in Modeoheim were no longer so hidden. And judging by how the other SOLDIERs responded to Cloud, listened, and backed him up, everyone else seemed to have noticed, too.</p><p>It was why, when they needed to split up and send some SOLDIERs to Upper Junon, Zack had immediately picked Cloud as his number two. He knew that Cloud would work hard, and he was not disappointed. Despite the wide difference between his First Class and Cloud’s Third Class abilities, the blond did not slow him down a single beat. In the way that Cloud fought, Zack could see notes of his sword-technique, melding in a strangely artistic fashion with Sephiroth’s footwork. It was mesmerizing. For the first time, Zack genuinely began to consider if Cloud would surpass both of them – and wondered if perhaps that was why Sephiroth was so interested in the first place.</p><p>(Though, Zack was convinced it was a different type of interest, one that he could not help but find some joy in. A guy had to get his kicks somewhere, and if it was in watching his two most awkward and introverted friends dance around each other endlessly while being as sweet as a sack of marshmallows, then so be it. Aerith accused him of being a sadist at that remark).</p><p>Still, there was time to indulge in such entertainment later. Right now, Zack was more focused on making sure that today, this mission, this time, he would not fail. Genesis had slipped through his fingers more than once before, but with Sephiroth’s full resolve, he believed that mistake would not happen again. And this time, Zack himself had some trusty back-up.</p><p>“That’s the last of them,” Cloud declared, holstering his broadsword on his back. They had arrived at the metallic underbelly of Upper Junon, the structure which supported the military installation built atop of the old town. Naturally, the place was infested with Genesis copies, but despite the length of the day and the stress of what had happened earlier, Cloud remained alert and strong. In fact, the younger man seemed more determined than ever – probably because he needed to let off some steam after having seen the General in danger. Zack made a mental note to tease Cloud about that later.</p><p>Or now. Now would do fine. Zack grinned. “C’mon. You were supposed to leave some for me, y’know.”</p><p>Cloud whipped around to look at him, and then ducked his head a little to hide the pink tinging his cheeks. It made Zack smile wider. Cloud would be Cloud, after all. “You were the one sitting back, idiot. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”</p><p>“Just wanted to take a break that’s all.” Jokingly, Zack stretched and fake-yawned, to emphasize his point.</p><p>Cloud rolled his eyes and turned back to survey the expanse of concrete and steel before them. “Where are we going?” he asked.</p><p>“Well, if I were a crazy redhead hellbent on causing destruction, where would I place a bomb?”</p><p>“Somewhere that would guarantee the collapse of the support system,” Cloud replied.</p><p>Zack pulled open his PHS and flipped to an email sent to him by Cissnei earlier, containing the blueprints for the under plate. After disarming Lazard, Sephiroth had finally called Tseng to inform him of the situation. Somehow, in spite of the clear insubordination, the General managed to secure a promise from Tseng not to interfere with his plan, stating that he was in the best position to neutralize Genesis. There was no arguing with that logic; Tseng acquiesced, and turned his efforts to helping Zack and Cloud locate the bomb, while sending the others to redouble evacuation efforts. But it was clear that this was going to be their last chance. If they did not manage to stop Genesis now, it would be completely out of their hands, and there was no way Shinra was going to let their former friend live. The thought of playing executioner to another one of their own did not sit well with Zack at all.</p><p>“The blueprints point to this pillar being the main support, so that’s probably our jackpot,” Zack surmised. He snapped close the device and tucked it into his pocket. Cloud was already moving in the direction Zack indicated, ever the overachiever. They set a brisk pace, wandering through a maze of metal and wires. But suddenly, they heard it.</p><p>“Help, please, help!”</p><p>Both Zack and Cloud stopped for the briefest of moments, to shoot each other looks of confusion. Then, the SOLDIERs darted toward the source of the noise. It was coming from a spot close to the pillar in question – there, on the floor of steel, was a man, kneeling forward on his hands, as if pressing down on something desperately. The realization of what that something was hit Zack harder than that time he was nearly run over by a stampede of chocobos out in the Midgar Wastes.</p><p>Cloud said it aloud first. “A pressure bomb.”</p><p>Shit. Zack stepped forward, his hands hovering around the poor man. He looked like an engineer, dressed in a navy blue jumpsuit with yellow workman gloves. His curly brown hair seemed matted to his forehead with sweat, and his glasses were precariously close to slipping right off his nose. Zack’s eyes moved downward to the man’s ID, hanging from the pocket on his chest. “Hey, Isaac,” he said, putting on his best cheery face. “I’m Lieutenant Zack Fair, from SOLDIER. This here is my friend, Cloud. We’re here to help.”</p><p>For his part, the engineer managed a sob, that sounded a lot like, “Thank, Gaia.”</p><p>Cloud crouched on the other side of the man, to get a closer look at the device. It was intricate, complicated, probably much like the former SOLDIER that commissioned its use. Zack could see Cloud’s thoughts filtering through those blue eyes. Neither of them had been extensively trained in bomb-defusing, and considering the stakes at play, they could not afford to make a mistake.</p><p>“I’m going to call Cissnei,” Zack said.</p><p>“Call?” Isaac nearly screamed. “But you said you would help!”</p><p>Zack could practically hear the man’s heartbeat, threatening to burst out of his chest. This was bad. They were hoping for a remote device, one they could disarm simply by using the technology that Cissnei had provided them to scramble any communications to the bomb. But the added wrinkle of a stressed and untrained civilian threw in an element of chaos. It was also unbearably cruel, <em>dishonorable</em>. That fact sent a sharp pang through Zack.  </p><p>“We are,” Cloud said, his voice sharp but calm. A lot like the tone Sephiroth would take, actually. “Unfortunately, neither the Lieutenant nor I know how to disarm this device. But help is on its way, just a few moments—”</p><p>“No, no! Get me out of here, now!”</p><p>“Wait,” Zack tried once more.</p><p>“No!”</p><p>Suddenly, the man <em>moved,</em> his arms lifting upward<em>. </em>In the following moment, the panic seemed to override everything, slowing down the seconds to fractions and fractions. All Zack could recall was that he had shifted forward, his arms encircling Isaac to pull him away, to shield the civilian from the inevitable. And all that flashed in his mind as the end approached were thoughts of Sephiroth, of Angeal, of Cloud, of Genesis, of Aerith, of his parents, and of how he had failed everyone important to him again.</p><p>Then, the moment passed. Zack only heard the buzzing of the metal structures around them – there was no conflagration, no overwhelming heat, no pain, nothing. Only the ticking of a bomb that had still not gone off.</p><p>He opened his eyes.</p><p>And there was Cloud with his hands pressed down on the pressure plate of the bomb, his blue eyes wide with that steel and fire that seemed to amaze everyone around him. His arms were braced tight, muscles taut and strong. Once again, it seemed that Cloud had beaten him to it. Zack didn’t know whether to be impressed, grateful, sad or angry. He decided on a little of all four.</p><p>They met gazes, and all Zack could manage was a strangled, “Oh, Gaia, Cloud. What the hell did you do?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh, Cloud. Always gotta be the hero. </p><p>Also, my favorite part of this chapter has to be the interaction between Zack and Seph. I love their dynamic so much. </p><p>Anyway, see you all next week! As always, please feel free to comment or let me know if you have any questions. You can do so here, on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/crescentstrife">@crescentstrife</a>, and/or my tumblr <a href="https://rabid-heart.tumblr.com">@rabid-heart</a>. </p><p>Thanks again for all your support.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Regret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cloud holds on for his life. Sephiroth confronts Genesis. Zack tries to make sure his friends do not fall apart. And at the end of it all, a confession is made.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow, thank you everyone for all the lovely feedback on the last chapter! I found both the last one and this one most difficult to write thus far, so your encouragement means a lot. Especially now that with this posted, we are pretty much halfway there! </p><p>For those of you who participated in the Do Good Weirdly Challenge earlier this year, this is the very same chapter I drafted for that event. Therefore, some parts of it will seem familiar. However, I did alter some stuff, added new scene, etc. because I ended up changing my mind about a few things that will come in to play later in this trilogy and in this universe. The end result is that this chapter is now the longest I've written at over 8,000 words!</p><p>Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this one, too.</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Descriptions of violence, intense fighting. Minor character deaths.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Out of all the things Cloud could possibly be thinking about right now, his mind wandered immediately to this moment: he was ten years old, battered and bruised, and was waking in his bed. There were cuts on his palms, blood in his mouth, and his chest weighed down so heavily that breathing felt like a struggle. But when Cloud had opened his eyes, pain was not the first thing he sensed: instead, it was the coolness of the cloth his mother pressed to his forehead, and it was her gentle chastisement, the lilt of her voice. </p><p>“You can’t seem to keep yourself out of trouble, can you?” she had said. Her smile was kind, but it was also twisted with sadness, with something that Cloud could never quite reach. She often looked at him like that, like he was the greatest joy she ever had in this world – but that it was a joy that was never meant to last. That gaze ached terribly in Cloud’s heart when he finally left Nibelheim, because he knew, in a way, he was fulfilling that sorrow. </p><p>It was the memory of when he had fallen from Mt. Nibel with Tifa. All he wanted to do was protect his friend, be there for her, watch her even as she stumbled up the mountain path and cried over her mother’s passing. He wanted to be stronger, be better, for her. But instead, he had fallen and brought Tifa down with him. </p><p>He was not making the same mistake, not this time.</p><p>Cloud swallowed the immediate panic that was rising from his stomach, kept his arms locked and hands firm on the pressure bomb, and ignored the wide-eyed disbelief on Zack’s face. It took a moment for the black-haired Lieutenant to react, but when he did, he fired off with every emotion Cloud expected him to. </p><p>“Oh, Gaia, Cloud,” he whispered. Soft, gentle, like his mother. And then, “What the hell did you do?!”</p><p>Cloud was not sure if he was becoming delirious, or if he just couldn’t help himself, but he responded, “Oh, you know. Trying to prevent all of Junon from collapsing on itself. What’s it look like?”</p><p>Zack opened and closed his mouth, whatever words he had to share lost in the shock. Beside him, the poor engineer, Isaac, was laying on the metal floor, all but paralyzed save for his heaving sobs. Maybe some other time, Cloud would find it in himself to be angry, resentful, but right now, the only thing he was focused on was where his hands were. </p><p>“Weren’t you supposed to make a phone call?” Cloud nearly huffed. It was an odd reversal from where they were earlier that day, when Cloud found himself unable to move at the sight of Sephiroth with a gun to his head. At that moment, both Zack and Sephiroth had exuded such perfect calm and poise and easy confidence. Cloud briefly wondered what Sephiroth would think if he could see him now. Would he be like Zack, angry and afraid? Would Sephiroth be worried, the way he was in the hospital after Cloud had awoken from his accident? Would he be angry? Would he care?</p><p>
  <em>Focus!</em>
</p><p>Finally, after a bit of stammering, Zack’s voice began working again. “Okay, yes”, the other man said, fumbling for his PHS. But his motions were interrupted by a chime resounding from the device, signaling a new alert. There was a moment of silence as Zack read it, followed by a very sharp and very telling, “Oh, shit.”</p><p>“I think we are running out of those,” Cloud joked again, though he could not help the edge that crept in his voice. </p><p>The comment earned him a weak laugh. “It’s a call for back-up. Genesis has attacked the base. Something’s happened,” Zack stated. Though it was lacking in detail, that did not matter. Cloud could tell by the undercurrent of his friend’s voice exactly what he meant.</p><p>
  <em>Something’s happened with Sephiroth. </em>
</p><p>That was the opposite of what Cloud was hoping to hear, and it was making the panic harder to control. He supposed this was exactly what Isaac had been feeling for hours, and at that thought, a little sympathy rose for the innocent civilian. But the overwhelming focus of his mind was on the silver-haired General. The fear Cloud had felt when he thought he was about to lose Sephiroth – it had not gone away. From where it had burrowed deep in his chest, it now started to resurface, pulsing louder and louder, making it harder and harder to keep his arms locked, to hold on.</p><p>Zack seemed to pick up on the new sense of urgency. “I’m calling Cissnei,” the Lieutenant said. “She’ll be here to disable the bomb.”</p><p>“And you?” asked Cloud.</p><p>The Lieutenant sucked in a breath. It was obvious that he was torn between staying and going, between lecturing and supporting, between being angry and being grateful. Cloud was not sure which reaction was preferrable, either.</p><p>“Spike, I’ll stay if you want me to.”</p><p>The blond fixed his gaze back downward, at the bomb, at his hands. Around them, the metal seemed to creak and lurch, the wind howled, and the sounds of the city in chaos clashed in the air. This was more than just a fall from a tall mountain with a girl he had a school-boy crush on. This was tens of thousands of lives and the chance to help two of the most important people in his life. He also wasn’t ten, scrawny, and weak, with scraped knees and hands. Now, he was a SOLDIER. </p><p>Cloud braced his arms, his blue eyes hardening to steel.</p><p>“Go.” </p><p>---</p><p>Sephiroth usually considered himself a patient man, but he found this waiting tortuous. It also did not help that he had an audience, Lazard’s knowing eyes and Hollander’s questioning gaze piercing through from behind the glass of their holding cell. He had turned off the intercom, allowed the room to be swallowed by the silence, only because the sounds of Hollander berating Lazard for betraying their tenuous partnership had started to get on his nerves. And for once in his life, Sephiroth was forced to admit to himself that he was just that – nervous. </p><p>The General had debated keeping Masamune grasped in his left hand, to be at the ready, but he was almost certain that the sight of him armed would only escalate the situation far more quickly than he could control it. Even before all this, Genesis had a habit of letting his passion run rampant, though admittedly, someone with his skill could easily afford such recklessness. But that was not accounting for all the new evidence: Zack’s recollection of the redhead’s last appearance in Modeoheim, this very terrorist plot of bombing Junon that they were now trying to stop, it all pointed to a terrible truth – that Genesis was far angrier than anyone had anticipated. And now, there was no more Angeal, none of his comforting phrases and simple tranquility, to temper the inferno.</p><p>So, Sephiroth had left the sword, figuring he could summon it when needed, and prayed that his leap of faith would not be a mistake. </p><p>Now, all that left him was to think about what he would even say. Their last conversation in one of Hollander’s hidden laboratories had been far from productive, reduced to Genesis quoting Loveless (as per usual, and the memory made Sephiroth’s heart sting a little), twisting every sentence that passed between them back to that poem. At that time, Sephiroth had said what he thought Genesis wanted to hear, followed along with the script, because he was not sure what else to do. Afterwards, he replayed the exchanges he had with both Genesis and Angeal over and over again, hoping if he just analyzed everything further, he could find it, the truth, the word, the line that would bring them back. But there was no such obvious spell, no simple twist that would render everything back to normal. It left Sephiroth with only one option. All he could do now was hope that it would be enough.</p><p>Sephiroth felt the dark and fiery presence before he even heard the footsteps. They were slow, both cautious and teasing, in the way that Genesis always moved, as if life were a dance and he was the main performer. The man rounded the corner, his rapier glowing eerily under the fluorescent lighting, and a fire spell shimmering between his fingertips. </p><p>“I was half expecting you to send the puppy again,” Genesis said, voice like barbed wire. “What a pleasant surprise that you’ve now decided to fight your own battles.”</p><p>Sephiroth ignored the taunt, schooled himself to his most neutral expression. Out of everyone he ever knew, the redhead was the most skilled at getting under his skin, partly because the man had made it his mission from the moment they had met. It used to be endearing, the anger, the embarrassment, the laughter, all reminders that Sephiroth could actually <em>feel</em>, contrary to whatever Hojo claimed. But now, it was something else entirely. </p><p>“I am not here to fight,” Sephiroth said. “Just talk.”</p><p>Genesis paused, contemplated that for a moment, before hurling the fire spell right at him. Sephiroth sidestepped easily and willed himself to calm his breathing. He knew that losing his temper would only be playing into the man’s hands. </p><p>“I don’t want to talk,” Genesis replied. “Actually, I was hoping to get what – or rather who – I came here for.” His head tilted slightly, bangs shifting over his eyes (they were getting long, unruly, another sign of the growing difference between the man in front of him now, and the friend he used to know) as he gestured to the glass holding cell behind Sephiroth. Both Hollander and Lazard had stood up, obviously transfixed. Hollander especially, seemed rather gleeful at the prospect of an escape, a cautious grin spreading over his face. </p><p>Sephiroth moved forward, but kept his hands open, in the hopes that Genesis would not take his approach as a threat. “Perhaps we can come to some other compromise?”</p><p>The redhead’s eyes narrowed. “Compromise? Come now, Sephiroth. Please don’t tell me you are here to spew the useless company drivel.”</p><p>“No. I’m here to talk.”</p><p>“What if I want to fight now?” Genesis asked, twirling his sword around once, twice. “Perhaps for old times’ sake?”</p><p>Sephiroth resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had almost forgotten how infuriating it was trying to talk with Genesis, especially when the man was clearly in one of his moods. How exactly did Angeal handle him again? For a brief moment, Sephiroth recalled a quiet dinner between the three of them that had turned less than quiet when Genesis had found something else to complain about. Angeal had only smiled, lifted a spoonful of whatever casserole he had baked for that evening, and shoved it directly in Genesis’s face. </p><p>“Looks better,” Angeal had said, returning to his food. With a grin that managed to be both shit-eating and calming, he had added, “Now shut up and eat.”</p><p>The memory was almost too much. He missed Angeal, missed how he just knew what to say and do to smooth ruffled feathers, to ease inflamed tensions. It would have been better, had his kind and honorable friend been here, for Zack, and maybe even for Cloud as well.</p><p>But in the end, Sephiroth was the one remaining, and there was nothing left other than to try. </p><p>“I can start,” Sephiroth said, deciding to take a page out of Angeal and Zack’s books and barrel straight into it. He took a breath and hoped that everything in him, his tone, his body language, added emphasis to the truth he had hoped to convey. “I am sorry.”</p><p>It was as if lighting struck. Genesis stopped playing with his sword, his eyes bright, shining. “You are <em>what?</em>”</p><p>“I am sorry. For everything. For the wound you suffered during our spar. For taking your glory in Wutai. For ignoring your suffering. For not fighting harder to help you. For failing you and Angeal. All of it.”</p><p>Sephiroth was not sure what reaction to expect, but when Genesis began to laugh, fully, through his body and his shoulders, he was thrown, and not in a good way. There was something in the sound that was more sinister than genuine, and it made dread sit fiercely in his stomach. </p><p>“The Great General Sephiroth? <em>Sorry</em>?” The other man waved his hands in disbelief, and Sephiroth almost winced to brace himself for another fire spell. However, none came his way. “What the hell happened to you?”</p><p>There was almost too much to answer that question with (losing two friends, the heart he had long denied he had -- or more accurately, was told he did not possess – breaking, the nightmares of the monster the world seemed determined to convince him he was, and Cloud, with those blue, defiant, and beautiful eyes). Sephiroth instead settled for something close to the truth, close to what he had said to Zack that night in his office before the younger man was sent on probation. </p><p>“I realized I should have done things differently. If it is not too late, I would like to try now.” Sephiroth reached forward, holding his hand out, palm up and open. “Please.”</p><p>Something crossed Genesis’s expression, and for a moment, Sephiroth was convinced the man was going to chop his limb right off. But instead, Genesis put his sword down, the tip tapping almost gently against the tile floor. “And what if it is too late?” he questioned. “Angeal is already dead.”</p><p>Sephiroth did his best to keep the despair from showing on his face. There was a tiny piece of him that had hoped his friend was still out there, given the fact that Genesis had survived, but he knew better. Zack had been more than certain. “We can still try anyway.”</p><p>Genesis laughed again. “You want to help now? After everything that has happened? After everything that Shinra has done, to me, to you?” Those eyes narrowed again. “No. The only thing that will help is if everything burns. You can either get out of the way or burn with it.”</p><p>The frustration, the rage – Sephiroth could feel it all, tightening in his chest, almost like it was going to burst out of him, an endless dam of everything and nothing, of his regret, spilling all over the floor. It was becoming clear what the endgame might be, how far he might have to go. But Sephiroth was far from ready. He wondered if this was what Zack had felt in Modeoheim, the anguish over the inevitability, and he felt the guilt rise once more at the knowledge that he had subjected the young man to that terrible fate.  </p><p>
  <em>A type of poetic justice, indeed. Genesis would be thrilled. </em>
</p><p>“Please,” Sephiroth said again. “We can still fix this. We can find a way to stop whatever is happening to you. We can end this madness.” </p><p>Genesis smiled, a subtle curve of his lip that was anything but reassuring. “Trying to play the hero, Sephiroth? Not you. You perfect monster.”</p><p>This time, Sephiroth let his anger flare, his gloved fist slamming hard against the metal wall. Behind him, in their cell, Lazard and Hollander jumped, though he paid the two men absolutely no mind. “Enough, Genesis. If you continue this path, Shinra will destroy you, like they destroy everything. And I will not (<em>cannot)</em> play your executioner.” </p><p>Genesis raised his sword. He made an exaggerated shrug of his shoulder, the one that was injured on the day that started it all, and watched the hopelessness sink into Sephiroth’s green eyes. </p><p>“You already have,” he said, then charged forward.</p><p>---</p><p>For a moment, the echoes of a prior fight, of old friends and their swords dancing atop a simulated Sister Ray, played behind Sephiroth’s eyes.</p><p>But this was not the open air of Junon Harbor. Instead, it was a dark hallway buried underneath tons of steel and concrete. And this was not a friendly spar, but a desperate fight between hope and revenge.</p><p>Sephiroth moved, kept his himself on his toes, stepped around Genesis’s slices and spells. All the while, attempts at reason spilled from his lips. But with each word, with each second, with each dodge, his opponent’s anger only grew. And like a wildfire swallowing more and more kindle and dry air, the conflagration threatened to become utterly unstoppable.</p><p>“C’mon, Demon of Wutai,” Genesis said, swinging his blade once, twice. Sephiroth stepped, ducked, twisted away, and the blade collided with the metal wall, the clamor singing in the darkened hall. “Where’s your sword? Fight!”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>It was as if Genesis’s pure aura was fire itself, his energy so red and hot and dangerous, it nearly seemed visible and tangible, all around him. “So smug. You never treated me like an equal. Not even now.”</p><p>Was that an opening? Sephiroth tried to take it. “I never thought of you as anything less.”</p><p>“Don’t patronize me.”</p><p>“I am not.”</p><p>Another flame whizzed through the air, the heat sparking against the skin of Sephiroth’s cheeks. It was taking all of his considerable self-discipline for Sephiroth to fight against his natural instincts and not retaliate against the onslaught. And yet, he could feel his own breaking point fast approaching, the anxiety, the fear, the frustration, the pain, the guilt, all budding and itching within him. No, he could not give in. He refused to. He would not lose another friend.</p><p>But once again, Genesis appeared to have other ideas. Those eyes flashed briefly behind Sephiroth, to the holding cell, to Lazard and Hollander who were watching with wide eyes. Between the anger, the twisted smile, and the immediately recognizable swell of magic in those hands, Sephiroth could not have missed the intent. He stepped into the attack to raise another appeal, to try once more.</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>His old friend replied, “No.”</p><p>It hurt far more than he expected.</p><p>The blast sent Sephiroth flying, back slamming through the glass of the holding cell and against the opposite wall with enough force to push out every last bit of breath out of him. Sephiroth slid to the ground like a limp doll, limbs unresponsive and heavy. Something metallic and bitter-tasting seeped from his lips. Inside him, the familiar tingle of mako healing clashed against the cracking of his bones and the throbbing of his muscles, and his mind kept whipping back and forth between the weighted feel of his body and the chaos of the space around him.</p><p>Someone cried, “What are you doing?”</p><p><em>Hollander</em>, some sector of his brain supplied, the name filtering through Sephiroth’s disorientation.</p><p>“What I should have done from the start.”</p><p>There was a rustle, a yell. From the corner of his eye, Sephiroth saw a flash of a blond hair and a blue suit stand up, rush forward. There was Lazard, with his disarmed pistol at hand as a bludgeon, in a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable. But there was no stopping the fire now.</p><p>Lazard’s body went down quickly, the rapier slicing through the flesh with sickening ease. The sight of the blood dripping from the tip of the sword was almost too much. Sephiroth tried to will his arms, his legs, <em>anything</em>, to move, but the pain was still there, keeping him immobile as his body tried to stitch itself back together. The only thing that remained was his voice, even though now, he knew it was not going to be enough.</p><p>Genesis turned to Hollander, began his slow stalk towards the man, like a hunter closing in on his prey.</p><p>Sephiroth called out again, “Genesis.”</p><p>
  <em>“My friend, the fates are cruel. There are no dreams, no honor remains.”</em>
</p><p>“Genesis!”</p><p>
  <em>“My soul, corrupted by vengeance hath endured tournament—”</em>
</p><p>Hollander scuttled toward the wall, as if trying to press himself through the metal, escape what he knew now would be his end. “What are you doing? I’m the only one who can cure you, remember? Stop. Stop!”</p><p>“—<em>to find the end of the journey, in my own salvation. And in your eternal slumber.”</em></p><p>Sephiroth closed his eyes, waited until the screaming stopped. He could not bear to look. It was now dawning on him exactly what Genesis intended to show him. The rage, the destruction, the fire – the unforgiving truth. The were supposed to be monsters, meant for nothing more than lighting the matches that would set the world alight. Sephiroth had already known that, because he had seen it before, every night, in the mirror image of himself that his dreams continued to trap him in.</p><p>Except those very same dreams had also revealed to Sephiroth the hope for something more.</p><p>Genesis pulled out his sword from Hollander’s body and breathed, “For Angeal.”</p><p>It took everything he had left in him, but Sephiroth pulled himself upright, braced himself against the wall. “That was not what he would have wanted,” he said, words pushing through the pain in his chest.</p><p>"He’s dead. He doesn’t want anything anymore.”</p><p>“Genesis.”</p><p>The redhead turned, regarded him fully, seriously. “Sentiment does not suit you,” he began, another flame kindling and sparking in his hand. “It does not suit monsters.”</p><p>Sephiroth breathed once, twice. It was approaching, it was here. He could feel it. And yet, because the image of a blond with blue eyes, standing up from a training room mat for another round, another fight, flickered in his mind, he had to try once more.</p><p>“We can choose differently.”</p><p>Genesis stepped back, readied himself in that tortuously familiar stance. “Then, I choose this.”</p><p>And there it was. Sephiroth stretched out his left hand, let the cold feel of Masamune infiltrate his fingers, let the steel sing its song. Perhaps there was no other path than this. It was a fight between them that had started it all, that had unraveled the dangerous threads of their lives.</p><p>And now, maybe, it would be this fight to end it.</p><p>---</p><p>If asked several months ago whether he was happy as a SOLDIER, Zack would have unequivocally said yes. Even after rough missions and a few injuries, and even after Genesis and Angeal’s desertion, he would have agreed, though then he had recognized the first cracks of doubt in his belief. Then those cracks became a chasm following Angeal’s death, and it seemed that no matter how hard Zack tried to fill it, the emptiness would not close. </p><p>All this was to say that Zack was having a pretty rough day, and it unfortunately showed no signs of letting up.</p><p>He kept one hand up over his shoulder, fingers dancing lightly over the hilt of the Buster Sword, as he stepped over the debris that seemed stacked everywhere around him. The current condition of the holding floor was in sharp contrast to the clean lines that had been present earlier in the day. Now, the glass cages all had fissures in them, the floor looked like someone had uprooted the tile, and there were scorch marks all over the walls and ceiling. That was Genesis’s signature, for sure. Zack may not be the smartest man in SOLDIER, but he recognized the signs of a fight (and an angry one, at that). It was not a good omen, not in the slightest. </p><p>“Seph!” he called. There was no response, other than the flickering of broken lights above him. “Where the fuck are you?”</p><p>Zack walked quickly, trying his best to remember where the holding cell containing Hollander and Lazard was located, but it was difficult to navigate in the space with all the destruction that surrounded him. Suddenly, his enhanced hearing picked up on something, a shift, a movement, and the Lieutenant sprinted forward toward the rustling. As he got closer, his senses picked up on something else.</p><p>
  <em>Blood.</em>
</p><p>He turned the corner, briefly identified it as the same one he and Cloud had rounded earlier and spun to face the holding cell. Or rather, what used to be the holding cell – it was now a gaping cavern, with metal and concrete twisting and collapsing in on the space. On the floor in front of him, surrounded by a pool of red, he recognized the garish orange jumpsuit, the tangled beard, and the swollen hands. Hollander. It was strange to see the man now, dead. Given their last encounter in Modeoheim, Zack was not sure whether happiness or relief were appropriate. He thought of Angeal and elected to reserve judgment for another day. </p><p>“Zack,” a voice called from the opposite corner. More rustling, the creaking of concrete. Zack’s eyes trailed toward the source, over the stained and dirtied pantsuit and the broken glasses on the floor. </p><p>“Director Lazard,” Zack said, even though he knew that the man had most definitely relinquished that title when he had threatened the General with a gunshot to the head. He stepped into the remains of the cell, crouched down next to the man, and was about to move to push the debris crushing him, when Lazard lifted his one free arm to stop him. </p><p>“There’s no need for that,” Lazard said, or more like choked. He gazed up at the Lieutenant with those eyes that everyone had said were so familiar (maybe that was why he wore the glasses, to downplay the resemblance to the namesake he worked for). “You must hurry, find the General.”</p><p>“What happened?” Zack asked. He contemplated casting a Restore, but one glance at the man’s condition, at that gaping slash wound across his chest, at the crushed limbs, was enough to quash the thought. It made him momentarily sick with anger, that another life had to be lost to this rampage. He tried not to think of the possibility of the other deaths that could follow (Sephiroth, wherever he was, Cloud, with steadfast hands trying to prevent the destruction of the city), instead settled for placing his hand on Lazard’s shoulder, in a manner that he hoped was at least a little comforting. </p><p>Lazard coughed a little, seemed to contemplate the question. “Shinra has a habit of making people angrier than you can imagine. And justifiably so. Your friend Genesis – he has no intentions of stopping. I don’t believe he has any intentions of surviving, either.”</p><p>Briefly, Zack recalled what he thought was the last he would see of the man, arms spread wide and falling into the depths of Modeoheim. What had he said? <em>If this world is intent on my destruction, it goes with me. </em></p><p>But Genesis was not Zack’s concern right now, at least not directly, at least not until Zack could punch him in that smug face enough times for the pain of Angeal’s death to finally wither away. </p><p>“Sephiroth. Where is he?”</p><p>Lazard somehow found it in him to laugh a little. “You know, they warned us civilians who work for SOLDIER, that if we were ever nearby when the famed trio are fighting, to run the other direction. You think I would be familiar enough with it, seeing how many training rooms I had to put in for repairs in their wake.”</p><p>Zack spared a moment to glance around the remains of the room, to the wires hanging from the ceiling, to the walls that were precariously holding up, and he nodded almost solemnly. He had not had the pleasure of actually watching a spar between Genesis, Angeal and Sephiroth, or even just two of the three of them, but he knew their strength well, had watched Angeal and Sephiroth on separate occasions. They were at a level higher than just normally possible. </p><p>“Bad luck, huh?”</p><p>The other man hummed in agreement. “Let’s pray that you have it better.”</p><p>Zack tried to smile, but he knew he was failing. Regardless, he reached for the man’s hand now, clamped it tight in his gloves. “I’m sorry,” he said.</p><p>Lazard looked at him once more, blue eyes almost faintly glowing in the dark light. There was a bit of recognition in them, and maybe some gratefulness. The man shifted his arm, finger pointing down the hall. “You should go. Quickly. Consider it your last order from me.”</p><p>Though he had not had the best track record of Genesis-related missions, Zack still stood up, determined, and nodded. “Okay. Yes, sir.”</p><p>He followed the trail of charred concrete and metal, now accompanied by thin slash marks that he recognized as Masamune (the sight, ironically, filled Zack with a sense of relief, something that most people could not honestly say about that sword). The destruction seemed to tunnel endlessly, winding strange paths through the maze of holding cells. He picked up his pace, rushing, hoping, and for his trouble almost barreled into the man in question, standing in the middle of a hallway with his famed nodachi on the floor at his feet. </p><p>“Gaia, Seph, what the hell?” Zack said, stepping backward. His eyes looked around, scanning for any sign of red, of fire, of Genesis. But the man himself was nowhere to be seen. All that was left was the residual chaos. Black feathers and blood droplets were scattered everywhere, like the petals on the wooden floor of Aerith’s church. Masamune’s steel edge was tainted crimson. The damage of the fight had torn straight through the walls, blasted through some of the metal and concrete, exposing the buried sector of the base to the open air. In the gash above them, Zack could spot it – a piece of torn red leather, a few black feathers, caught on the edges of steel.</p><p>
  <em>One flies away…</em>
</p><p>As if reading his mind, Sephiroth turned, but his eyes were still fixed on his hands, almost as if he couldn’t believe they belonged to him. His leather jacket was torn, and the ends of his hair a little singed. It would have been a funny sight, seeing the great General, always impeccable, and untouchable, so utterly imperfect now. But those details were tangential, because all Zack could look at now was Sephiroth’s downcast face, and at the withering feather that rested in the man’s gloved hands.</p><p>“I had him,” Sephiroth said, curling his fingers closed. “He was there, in front of me, at the end of my sword. Instead, I lost him.”</p><p>Zack saw it then, felt it, the same panic, the same despair, the same cleaving of the heart. He knew what it was, because Angeal had done the same to him, when the man he had admired purposely transformed into a monster, in order to end it all. Except there was something else there, too, a hopelessness, a guilt. Sephiroth had made a different choice. And the man feared that he would live to regret it.</p><p>“Seph, it’s okay.”</p><p>“It is not. Look around us. This…This is—”</p><p>“Sephiroth.”</p><p>He met his gaze. There were tears there, threatening to fall. “I was not strong enough. This was all my fault. I failed.”</p><p>Zack closed his eyes. He tried not to think about the senseless destruction he witnessed on his way back to the base, tried not to think about Cloud, legitimately holding on for dear life. After everything his mentor had done, after abandoning him in Wutai, after Banora and the attacks on Midgar, would Zack have felt the same way had he let Angeal live? Would he be filled with remorse? No, he knew the truth. The only thing Zack regretted now was the inability to do more, say more, change something. Angeal had forced his hand. And it appeared Genesis tried to do the same, only Sephiroth, unexpectedly and for reasons that countered the man’s cold reputation, had pulled back the killing blow.</p><p>It was getting harder and harder to hold on to hope. But it was still there, a tiny and flickering spark.</p><p>“No,” Zack said. “We try again. We keep trying.”</p><p>He then moved forward, doing something he never thought he would ever do – envelop the taller man in his arms. And Sephiroth let him. They did not move, not for a while. Zack kept his arms strong and tight, waited until the shaking started and stopped, until he could feel the quiet tears that fell on his hair finally dry in the silence. </p><p>
  <em>The one that is left becomes a hero. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>Cloud could barely feel his arms, but the sense of relief he felt when Cissnei finally arrived and disarmed the device was nearly overwhelming. He laid on the metal floor for what felt like hours, and despite the chaos, it was almost paradise, the way it felt so cool on his sweat-coated back and arms. The auburn-haired Turk had done her work with nearly frightening efficiency, but she had an almost disarming warmth to her that was more than helpful given the situation. He could see why Zack liked her so much, trusted her, despite the fact that she was indeed a Turk.</p><p>Though Cissnei was definitely improving Cloud’s opinion on that department of Shinra, the other Turk at the scene was, decidedly, not. “You gonna get up anytime soon, blondie?” the man said, with what was quite possibly the most sneering look Cloud ever saw in his life. </p><p>“No,” Cloud said, in the snarkiest tone he could muster. Whatever kindness or filter he typically would have employed had long been worn away. All he really wanted was a hot shower and a nap and maybe not to use his arms for another week or two. </p><p>The other man opened his mouth to retort, but Cissnei mercifully cut in. “Leave him alone, Reno. He did just save all our lives, you know.”</p><p>“Technically, you did that by disarming the bomb,” Reno said.</p><p>“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to disarm it if the SOLDIER here hadn’t stopped it from going off in the first place.”</p><p>Reno rolled his eyes, tapped his baton against his shoulder casually. He examined Cloud like one would a strange and unfamiliar zoo animal. “Whatever. This is the guy, right? The one that has the General’s panties in a bunch? Doesn’t look like anything to me.”</p><p>At the mention of Sephiroth, Cloud jolted upward, ignoring the pain that was running up his back. That was right -- Zack had gone off to help Sephiroth. Sephiroth was in trouble. He tried to get up, but his arms did not seem to want to support his weight anymore, and he rather clumsily ended up right back on his ass. </p><p>For his part, Reno seemed distinctly entertained at the sight. “I rest my case,” he said, snickering. </p><p>Cissnei glared at him, stooped down to help pull Cloud up. She was surprisingly strong for her size (though Cloud could probably count the number of times he was told that very same thing). “You needn’t worry,” she said. “The General and the Lieutenant are safe.”</p><p>Cloud breathed, and whatever anxiety curled in his chest quickly dissipated. “That’s good.”</p><p>“Not really,” Reno remarked. “You SOLDIERs fucked this up big-time. Key fugitives dead, millions in property damage, a military base wasted. This is why you don’t send a giant hunk of metal to do a Turk’s work.”</p><p>This time, Cissnei outrighted elbowed him, but Cloud was too focused on translating Reno’s words. Fugitives? Dead? What had happened? He thought about Sephiroth, the way the man seemed marginally hopeful and even more so determined. He thought about all the lovely stories he had told him, about the soft smile that he shared with the memories. It had hurt already to think about how Sephiroth had lost Angeal. If he lost Genesis too – it was enough to make Cloud’s own heart break. </p><p>“I have to go,” Cloud said, stumbling forward, brushing past Reno and another Turk, a bald man with multiple ear piercings and sunglasses, to head toward the exit.</p><p>“Hold on a sec, you gotta make a statement!” Reno called.</p><p>Cissnei ignored him. “Reno, take care of this mess. Make sure to properly label the evidence this time.” She then strode quickly to catch up to Cloud. “SOLDIER Strife, I can fly the chopper to the military base. Please follow me.”</p><p>Cloud nodded. The ride to the military base was quick, but it also gave Cloud a chance to look at the whole city. There was smoke rising from various locations, broken buildings and houses, turned-over cars, empty and broken pavement. It looked like a war zone and seeing Junon from above sent another sorrowful wave through him, one that he had once easily ignored when running through those streets, focused on the mission at hand. Was that what it was like to be a SOLDIER? Eyes on the mission prerogative only? But what about what was next? On every other mission he had been on (besides, of course, that unfortunate incident in the Sector Four Plate), the end had not felt this unusual, this bitter. Maybe because Cloud knew, despite the fact that he had fulfilled his part and stopped the bomb, that the overall operation had been far from successful.</p><p>Over the headset, Cissnei sounded tinny, but her voice was steady and sharp. “The other SOLDIERs from Midgar took care of the remaining copies. The civilians were all evacuated into the nearby bunkers and will probably be kept there overnight while repairs begin.” She paused, tilting the copter slightly. Below them, a landing pad came into view. “You did good, Strife. It won’t go unnoticed.”</p><p>“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Cloud responded. </p><p>“They aren’t going to punish General Sephiroth.”</p><p>He glanced over to her, watched her auburn eyes glitter. There was something knowing in them, and she was not hiding that fact from him in the slightest. By now, the city was entering twilight, and the sun was setting in the far horizon. It had not even occurred to Cloud to check the time. All he knew was that he had landed in Junon in the early morning and now, a whole day had vanished, and it had probably been one of the worst days of his entire life. </p><p>The fact that it could be far worse for someone else he cared about made it all the more painful. </p><p>Cissnei landed the chopper smoothly, a stark contrast to his earlier experience riding a helicopter with a Turk (on that other ill-fated mission that Cloud did not want to think about). Cloud hopped out quickly, gave the Turk a grateful wave and began to walk into the base. The place still looked like it had been torn to shreds, but there were suddenly more people milling about – SOLDIERs, infantrymen, moving this way and that. But they all stopped as soon as they saw him.</p><p>“There you are, Strife,” Kunsel said, stepping out from the crowd. Cloud only recognized him by his voice – the man had his ever-present helmet still plastered on his head. “Hero of Junon, indeed.”</p><p>“What?” Cloud said. Beside him, a few troopers began whispering in quiet tones, and while Cloud could probably make out what they were saying if he paid attention, he found that he did not care much in the moment.  </p><p>Kunsel looped an arm around him, began leading him away from the crowd that was starting to gather. “Nothing. The PR department is still trying to figure out what to call you, that’s all.”</p><p>Cloud scowled a little. He should have suspected, having worked at Shinra for just over a year now. But he had more pressing concerns at the moment. “Kunsel, can you tell me where—”</p><p>“Zack is downstairs, writing his report, of all things,” Kunsel said without additional prompting, and yet again, Cloud was wondering if the man was just that omniscient. “As for the General…” the Second let his words drift, bending his head slightly in the direction of a conference room down the hall. At the edge of the one glass panel next to the door, Cloud could see a wisp of silver, standing by the window. </p><p>Cloud sucked in his breath. “Thanks, Kunsel,” he said, moving out of the man’s grasp.</p><p>Kunsel tugged his arm, for a moment. “A warning. He’s not in the best of moods.”</p><p>The blond nodded, began striding over to the conference room. At the door, he paused, wondering what to say, what to do, what would or wouldn’t be contrite. Apologizing felt like a stupid thing, when he had not done anything wrong, when he knew the only person that Sephiroth would be blaming for the entirety of today would be himself. He thought of Zack, recalling distinctly how silent and sorrowful the other man was on the return trip from Modeoheim those months ago. Cloud did not know him well enough to say anything then. </p><p>But Sephiroth was different. The man felt familiar, though they had only interacted with each other for a few short months. Cloud had already been peeling back the frosted layers, seen glimpses of the warmth that Sephiroth held secret and close. When Cloud had awoken in that hospital bed, all Sephiroth had done was hold his hand, and it was more than enough to make the pain just a little more bearable. He hoped it would be enough now, in return.</p><p>Cloud pushed open the door. The sound was enough to catch Sephiroth’s attention, and the man turned slowly. He looked tired, more tired than Cloud had ever seen him before. </p><p>“Cloud,” he said. “You should not be here.”</p><p>“Hi,” Cloud said back, and immediately wanted to smack himself in the face. That was not what he had wanted to say. He took a deep breath, stepped closer, slowly, because he knew the man in front of him would be on edge. “I wanted to see how you were doing.”</p><p>Sephiroth scanned him now, his green eyes returning to that inscrutable gaze that had so confounded Cloud when they had first met. But now, Cloud knew, could even spot the invisible walls the man was trying to construct between them. So, he moved forward again, this time more boldly. </p><p>“Tell me what happened,” Cloud said.</p><p>There was surprise and anger in the General’s expression. “I could say the same to you, Strife. Your actions today were reckless.”</p><p>He could spot the tactic, the attempt at deflection, from a mile away. “It’s Cloud,” the blond responded. “And I don’t see any problems. I stopped a bomb from levelling the city.” He was standing in front of Sephiroth now, though the man had suddenly made a point of avoiding eye contact. “You are welcome for that, by the way.”</p><p>“Your sudden arrogance does not suit you.’</p><p>Cloud took the opening. “Neither does this guilt.” He let his eyes soften, shifted into the man’s space so that Sephiroth had no choice but to look at him. “You tried. You did everything you could.”</p><p>“You were not there. You do not know what happened. You have no place to--”</p><p>“I didn’t have to be there. I know you.”</p><p>Suddenly, Sephiroth laughed and the sound was hollow and dark, and so very unlike the soft, warm chuckles the General usually shared under his breath. It occurred to Cloud then that the cracking in Sephiroth’s voice was from tears. The man had been crying. Cloud suddenly regretted his bold approach, instead now opted for a different one. Without overthinking it, he lifted a hand, wrapped it around Sephiroth’s larger wrist, much like the way he did when the General had given him his birthday gift a few days prior. He let their fingers intertwine, softly, gently. </p><p>“You do not know me as well as you think,” Sephiroth whispered. </p><p>“Then tell me,” Cloud said back, unknowingly mimicking the taller man’s hushed tones. </p><p>Finally, Sephiroth met his eyes. “I should be angry at you,” he murmured, but it was so quiet that Cloud was almost sure he was not meant to hear it. “For this, for those dreams, for everything.”</p><p><em>What?</em> The words filtered through Cloud’s mind. He tried raking through his memory of all the things he and Sephiroth talked about, but dreams were not one of them. The confusion was enough to make him want to pull away, but suddenly Sephiroth’s hands were around his waist, tight enough to keep him steady, but not tight enough to hurt. </p><p>“Instead, I find myself only upset that you nearly died today. I can’t seem to understand it.”</p><p>Cloud was about to open his mouth to protest, say something along the lines of <em>If this were a contest about who was closest to death, you would win by far and twice, </em>but the words died somewhere in his throat when his body seemed to register how close the General was to him, their lips almost brushing. It made him think about his birthday, how he had stomped up to Shinra tower after his first night of legal drinking, because all he had wanted was to kiss this man. And now...and now..</p><p>“Sephiroth,” he breathed. </p><p>“I can’t lose you, too,” Sephiroth said, and closed the distance between them. </p><p>The blond was sure his brain had shut down, had started to break apart, sometime between when Sephiroth had gripped him close and when those lips came crashing down on his. It was rougher than Cloud had expected, and Sephiroth tasted a little salty (from the tears, his mind had supplied), but it was perfect in its own way, just beyond <em>right</em>. He let his eyelids flutter shut, let the silver-haired man’s hand wander to the small of his back to pull him even closer, let his own arms encircle those broad shoulders, fingers weave through that hair now tangled from a long day. </p><p>He kissed back, hard and fierce, like a man dying of thirst, like it was the salve he needed after the sheer weight of today. Because in a way, it was true. Cloud wanted this, had for a while, wished for it. And he could sense the desperation in Sephiroth too, to feel something other than despair, even if it were just for a moment.</p><p>But then, the moment passed. Sephiroth stepped back suddenly, creating a strange sense of distance between them. The blond blinked, whiplash soaring through his senses, before he heard a sharp knock on the door.</p><p>“Come in,” the General said, moving to sit down at the nearest chair. His tone was impossibly tight. </p><p>The door opened, and both Kunsel and Zack stepped in, all business. Cloud quietly took the moment to center his breathing.</p><p>“Heidegger is on his way,” Zack said. He tossed a handful of papers on the desk, and Cloud recognized the Lieutenant’s chicken scratch over the pages. “I figured we should get our stories straight.”</p><p>Sephiroth inclined his head slightly. “Thank you, Zack,” he said, with a heavy level of sincerity. Then, coolly, clipped, “If you wouldn’t mind taking care of Strife, I believe he needs a visit to the infirmary.”</p><p>That caused the blond to stare at Sephiroth in disbelief. “I’m fine,” Cloud protested, though something like dread began to brew. What was Sephiroth doing? Was he pushing him away?</p><p>Zack rolled his eyes. Clearly, the Lieutenant was at his limit over Cloud’s stubborn tendencies. “Seriously? You’re going. Come on.”</p><p>“Wait—” He turned to Sephiroth, watched the man, saw the metaphorical walls, the distance, starting to build again, and it felt like a small betrayal. They looked at each other, blue into green, and Cloud hoped that he could read the confusion, the silent plea on his face. <em>Let me stay. Let me be here for you. Let me help you. Let me, just let me – </em></p><p>But Sephiroth fixed his gaze back down on the table, on the paper Zack had provided, on anything other than the blond he had just been madly clinging to. He was trying to sweep it down, the pain, the weakness, the yearning, the sorrow, and it was making Cloud’s chest burn with both anger and contrition. He was torn between slapping the man and kissing him until the sadness faded away. </p><p>Instead, he could do neither, and it was infuriating.   </p><p>“Fine,” Cloud said, nodding as sharply as he could. He then walked out of the room, moving past a quiet Kunsel and slightly startled Zack, and tried his best to ignore the anger and hurt rising in his rapidly beating heart.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So much happening! What's in store next? Well, things will slow down a bit, as Cloud and Sephiroth deal with the aftermath of what they just did...</p><p>As for Genesis, don't worry. I have such plans for an amazing character like him that go far, far into the future of this universe!</p><p>Anyway, as always, please let me know if you have any comments or feedback. Thanks for sticking along for this ride!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Push</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cloud deals with the aftermath of Junon and his newfound fame. Zack tries to do what he does best and be there for his friends. Sephiroth confesses a truth.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Posting a little early this week, mostly because I got a bit excited. </p><p>Once again, thank you so much for your responses and your feedback. This fic really just started out as some ramblings in my head, and I worried about whether anyone would care to read it, so the fact that you have all been so wonderful has been greatly encouraging. </p><p>This chapter is a bit of an interlude and more of a lead-in to next chapter, but I hope you enjoy it regardless. I know I definitely did, because I love writing Sephiroth and Zack together!</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: A brief hint of a panic attack toward the end.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Look, I found another one,” Zack said, waving the magazine in his gloved hand. As he approached Cloud and a few other SOLDIERs, all sitting on the couches in the center of the renovated Third Class lounge (when asked why he elected to hang out here, when he had access to the much nicer First Class spaces, Zack tossed a comment about <em>having paid for the privilege),</em> the effervescent Lieutenant played the perfect picture of innocence. But after all this time, Cloud knew better. He could easily spot when Zack was full of shit and judging by that charming smile and those twinkling blue eyes, the man most certainly was right now.</p><p>“I don’t want to see it,” Cloud said, turning his attention to his soda, and resisting the urge to crush the can in his fist.</p><p>Beside him, Hunter, a fellow Third that Cloud had met shortly after orientation, reached forward to grasp the offending object out of Zack’s hands with maybe a bit too much enthusiasm. To make matters worse, a few others began to gather around, chattering and murmuring with varying levels of interest. Great. Even after a whole month of this, Cloud had still no idea how to react to the way his peers suddenly treated him after Junon. While he no longer feared injury or outright betrayal from his fellow SOLDIERs, at least not since his fall from Sector Four, the sudden fame was a nightmare of a different flavor. He had transformed from a scrawny nobody merely trying to survive in Shinra, into someone who now regularly had flowers or chocolates delivered from admiring colleagues, who had to avoid the more crowded areas of the Tower, lest he be stared at like an exotic animal.  </p><p>Of course, Zack only found that turn of events positively hilarious. His friend made it a point to send him any photos or articles about the “Hero of Junon”, often with bombastic commentary of his own. He especially liked to do that in public, loved to watch the way that Cloud would stubbornly duck his head to hide his embarrassment. But at least he knew where Zack’s heart truly was – that he was doing all this out of a sense of pride for Cloud’s accomplishments (and maybe even a small bit of relief that they had managed to survive the whole ordeal). When it came to other people, however, Cloud found he could no longer be sure of their intentions.   </p><p>The Lieutenant had happily relinquished the magazine to Hunter and the other Thirds, and then plopped down on the plush sofa next to the blond. “It’s honestly a really good picture of you,” he said, voice singing with delight. “You actually look more like an adorable chocobo than a scowling gremlin.”</p><p>“I am not a chocobo,” Cloud grumbled, but peered over Hunter’s shoulder to glance at the photo anyway.</p><p>Zack was right. It was a decent one – a candid shot which featured him looking over his shoulder at the end of a monster-clearing mission in the Sector Six slums. Where they even got these images, Cloud had no idea. Nevertheless, he was still jarred at the sight of himself on the pages of newspapers and magazines, all over the internet. There had been an enormous amount of press in the days after the Junon Incident, a whirlwind of cameras, interviews, and meetings that left Cloud utterly dazed and exhausted. The early articles that came out focused on the basic background – Nibelheim, Shinra Infantry, mission record as a SOLDIER Third Class, his status as Sephiroth’s protégé – as well as discussed his “unparalleled bravery in the face of dire circumstances.” It was just shy of too much, and when the initial rush finally died after about a week, Cloud had thought (<em>hoped</em>) that that would be the end of it.</p><p>But instead, the attention quickly transformed into something much stranger and ultimately grew to have a life of its own. In hindsight, Cloud should have expected it. After all, he had been a fan of the General for so long (a detail of his life that now made him cringe) and had seen the way the man had skyrocketed into the public consciousness following the first campaigns in Wutai. Yet, while he was not naïve to what his newfound status meant, Cloud still found it a difficult adjustment. And there was no amount of understanding or preparation in the world that would ever stop him from being mortified over some of the awkwardly painted compliments now thrown his way. One magazine had said something along the lines of: <em>He looks more like a model than a SOLDIER, but his beautiful blue eyes hide the strongest of steel, </em>which seemed to delight Zack and the others, but only made Cloud want to hide out of embarrassment.</p><p>Still, there was an honest part of Cloud that was a little thrilled – after all, wasn’t this what he wanted? To be a hero, to rise above the painfully low and cruel expectations that the villagers back home had set for him? His mother had called him after she had gotten the first paper, the one with her son’s face blazoned right on top of the fold. She had spent the conversation vacillating between frightened for his safety and proud of his courage. That clipping was now framed, placed proudly at the center of the mantlepiece above the fireplace in their living room, a beacon that signaled to all of Nibelheim, <em>I told you so, </em>a reminder of where he had started and how far he had come. In some ways, Cloud was grateful for it.</p><p>And yet, as he cast his eyes over his fellow SOLDIERs, all looking at <em>him </em>(or more accurately, a photo of him), he could not help but miss the days of wallowing in anonymity.</p><p>“Whatever you say, Spike,” Zack teased. He lifted a finger and poked Cloud’s cheek. “Just glad I can call our newest SOLDIER hero my best friend.”</p><p>Cloud huffed, pushed the playful finger away from his face. “Don’t test your luck.”</p><p>Zack only laughed in reply.</p><p>Meanwhile, Hunter finally put down the magazine, his face suddenly much more thoughtful. Evidently, Cloud had missed the thread of the other group’s conversation, because the next question out of the Third’s mouth was surprising enough to make him pause.</p><p>“Think they’ll promote you to Second, Strife?”</p><p>It was a good question, and one that he probably should have thought about more. But the truth was, after Junon, Cloud hardly had a moment to <em>breathe</em>, let alone speculate on the trajectory of his career. Just getting into SOLDIER and surviving the first few months of the program had been overwhelming enough; the sheer notion of becoming a Second was just too farfetched, like the distant speckle of a star in the night sky. After all, it had only been six months since Cloud had joined the program and being promoted that early was practically unheard of.</p><p>But then, Zack said, with a strangely solemn tone, “Wouldn’t be surprised.”</p><p>Cloud turned to stare at his friend, but the Lieutenant’s expression was unreadable. Did he know something? Zack ranked high up the SOLDIER chain of command, even more so now that Lazard was dead and Sephiroth had assumed control of operations to avoid the program falling completely under Heidegger’s purview. It was easily possible that he was privy to some truths that Cloud was not.</p><p>At the look, Zack merely gave a shrug. Then, his expression became a lot less solemn and a lot more mischievous. “C’mon, Cloud, we all know who you could ask if you really wanted a straight answer to that.”</p><p>Cloud scoffed, folded his arms, and slouched back on the couch. As curious as he was about the prospect of a promotion, he was absolutely determined not to talk Sephiroth. Especially after the man had made a deliberate point of <em>not </em>speaking to him over the last month. Besides the fifteen minutes in the prior week during which Cloud and a small team of Thirds provided a mission update on the monster situation in Midgar, they had not spoken more than brief greetings in passing to each other. Sephiroth even cancelled their once regular training sessions, citing Cloud’s clear improvement and the increase in his own workload (that might not have bothered Cloud as much, had Sephiroth actually done so face to face, instead of <em>over a text message</em>). Any calls rolled to voicemail; emails or texts went unanswered. And every time Cloud had enough stubbornness, irritation, or desperation in him to actually stalk up to that office and knock on his door, the General’s secretaries would immediately turn him away.</p><p>Infuriating was too simple of a word for what Cloud felt about it all. He could understand it if Sephiroth needed time to heal after what had happened at Junon, if the man wanted space to contemplate how he felt. That kiss had been rushed, frantic, the result of a chaotic and emotional day. But to hardly say a word to Cloud about it, to shut him out completely?</p><p>Cloud was enraged. But more than that, he was embarrassed. Because he could not stop thinking about that kiss – how soft Sephiroth’s hair was in his fingers, how firm the muscles in his chest and back felt, how easy and how right it was being wrapped in those arms. It was not just physical, either. During those six months he had spent with Sephiroth, chatting in his office or apartment, sharing meals and spars and stories, something warm had begun to burrow deep in his heart. And after that kiss, it was now clear what that something was. It went beyond the initial crush he had harbored for the man as a youth, now something much more real and much more meaningful. The problem was, Cloud had assumed, had <em>hoped</em>, that the attraction went both ways.</p><p>And when Sephiroth pulled away, broke their contact, built his walls, that illusion had shattered. Picking up the pieces of it, feeling the stings of the <em>what ifs </em>against the skin of his fingers – it hurt far more than Cloud expected or cared to admit. </p><p>It was <em>humiliating.</em></p><p>Zack seemed to notice the darkening of Cloud’s mood. He leaned in and whispered, “Hey. You alright?”</p><p>“Fine,” Cloud mumbled, his eyes focusing straight on the tips of his boots. He knew that snipped response was terribly unconvincing, but it would be enough for his friend to sense that he didn’t want to talk about it, at least not right now. And honestly, if Sephiroth refused say anything, would like to pretend that that kiss and everything else that came before didn’t happen, didn’t matter…</p><p>Well, two could play at that game.</p><p>Cloud leaned forward on his elbows, buried his face in his hands.</p><p>“I’m just fine.”</p><p>---</p><p>Zack was not shy to admit that he was a people person. He knew how to read the mood in a room, knew what buttons to push and what to leave alone, knew how to look past the words and masks others presented and try and see the realities underneath. But he did not need to deploy such skill to see this particular truth. Though it was soft and quiet, like a subtle summer breeze on the beach, the easy affection and care Cloud and Sephiroth shared for each other had been more than obvious. It was especially evident on Sephiroth’s part, considering the man never showed anything other than blatant disinterest <em>ever.</em> Zack had made a mental note to speak seriously to the General about Cloud, but beyond occasional teasing, there never seemed to be time to have the important conversation. And, if Zack were being honest, he did not want to wreck what seemed to be a good thing.</p><p>But he should have known better, should have anticipated that his two socially awkward dolts of friends would go right ahead and ruin it themselves.</p><p>“Stop slamming your head against the table,” Aerith chided, though there was no malice to her voice. She was sitting across from him in the Sector Five Café, a half-eaten slice of strawberry cake and a steaming mug of tea in front of her. She reached forward, patting Zack’s head of black hair like a child would a puppy.</p><p>Zack grumbled, the sound muffled against the wooden table. “I can’t. I hate them both.”</p><p>“No. You don’t. You are incapable of hating anyone, Zack Fair.”</p><p>“They’re making a pretty good argument, though.”</p><p>Aerith laughed, took another bite of her cake. She refused to let Zack share, had accused her boyfriend of always taking more than his half, which the young man had protested was only the result of his enhanced appetite. “Come on, Zack. Get up.”</p><p>The Lieutenant lifted his head from the table, resorted instead to slouching in his seat. After that moment in the lounge, Zack had cornered Cloud to press him for more details about why he suddenly seemed less than pleased with Sephiroth, but the blond had been infuriatingly tight-lipped.</p><p>“Leave it alone,” Cloud had said, though Zack could see it in his eyes. There was hurt and betrayal there, swirling in the blue. Cloud was tough, probably tougher than anyone Zack had ever met, but that did not mean he was unfeeling. If anything, Cloud felt very strongly – he would not have worked so hard and fought so determinedly if he did not. And the pain his friend was now in was strong, loud, like a bell ringing on a silent morning. </p><p>Zack had known this was a possibility, but as always, he had given into his optimism, his belief. It also helped that Sephiroth often looked at Cloud like a poor cat starved for affection would glance hopefully toward comforting human being. That was enough to assuage the fear, to make the idea that the General would even hurt Cloud seemed so remote. But Sephiroth did, somehow, and that much was now clear.</p><p>“I’m gonna kill him,” Zack had said.</p><p>Cloud had reached for his arm, tugged it in a quiet plea. “No! He didn’t – It was nothing like that. It was my fault, Zack. I was an idiot.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>But all Cloud did in response was shake his head.</p><p>The next day, Zack had tried to get Sephiroth’s side of the story, but the General was booked backed-to-back, and there were rumors that he had not left the office in weeks, buried in paperwork and mission reports and budget approvals that normally were shared between him, two other Lieutenant Generals, and the SOLDIER Director. Despite everything that happened, despite losing his two closest friends in the span of a year, Sephiroth had not taken a single day off, and it was now looking like he never would be able to again. Though the Junon Incident reports were finally closing, the man remained busier than ever. It did bring some comfort, to understand that Sephiroth’s excuses of a taxing workload were not simple white lies. Still, Zack was not about to let him off the hook that easily. Unfortunately, after the third day of being unable to see Sephiroth, even for a quick meal or drink, Zack could begin to feel his resolve wavering.</p><p>Which was what brought him down to Sector Five, to see the girl with sparkling green eyes that never failed to give him a second wind.</p><p>They were having lunch, and Zack had spent the better part of the meal regaling Aerith with the idiotic love story of the General with a stick up his ass and the surly chocobo with a stubborn streak a milewide. His girlfriend listened with the patience of a goddess, nodding, and assenting, and even laughing at all the appropriate times. He had just gotten to the part in which the two had refused to even explain their new and strange behaviors, when he succumbed to the urge to slap his forehead against something, and the wooden café table seemed like the best option at the time.</p><p>“I just wish they would talk. Say something!”</p><p>“Some people just aren’t talkers,” Aerith said, grinning. She propped up on her elbows, her chin in her palm, and shot him a teasing glance. “I know, shocking for you, right?”</p><p>Zack put a hand to his heart, acting playfully affronted. “Babe, that hurts.”</p><p>“You’re tough. I have no doubt you’ll live.”</p><p>He did manage a laugh at that, feeling warmer and more comfortable than he had in a while. They had not had much time to see each other since his return from Junon – Aerith was busy helping out with classes at the local orphanage and Zack was trying to keep SOLIDER morale together. Moreover, Sephiroth had also assigned him as primary proctor of the upcoming SOLDIER exam. It had been Angeal’s old job, one that his late mentor loved to carry out, and the hidden meaning behind the new charge was not lost. Zack had gladly thrown himself into preparations, though it left him little time to see his girlfriend.</p><p>But now that he was here, Zack could not deny how refreshing it was to be out of that tower, to be with Aerith and her freely given smiles and gentle ribbing. He leaned forward and took her hand in his, thumb rubbing her fingers gently.</p><p>“You know I love you, right?” he said.</p><p>She smiled back. “Yes, Zack. I know. I love you, too.”</p><p>He grinned, pressed a kiss to her hand, watched the way her blush colored her cheeks and made her emerald eyes seem to sparkle even brighter. She pulled her hand back with a soft chuckle, adding, “Now, if only you could get your friends to say that to each other, all your problems would be solved, wouldn’t it?”</p><p>Zack groaned, covered his face with his hands. “You would not think it would be this hard.”</p><p>Aerith tilted her head. Then she spoke in that voice, the one that always seemed to just <em>know</em>, the one that reminded him just how special this girl really was. “It is for some people. Love can be a scary thing, especially to those who are unfamiliar with it, especially to those who have broken hearts.”</p><p>Zack pondered that for a minute, thought about Cloud and the tough exterior he used to try and hide the embarrassment and frustration and pain from his childhood. Thought about Sephiroth – that was a whole can of worms that he had only just begun to open, but if Angeal and Genesis’s stories revealed anything, it was that Sephiroth had the unfortunate distinction of being both unfamiliar with love <em>and</em> broken-hearted.</p><p>He sighed. “I just want them to be happy, that’s all.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I don’t want any of my friends to hurt anymore. I keep losing them, and I just—”</p><p>Aerith leaned forward and put her hand on his cheek. “I know, Zack.”</p><p>Zack turned his face toward the touch, closing his eyes and steadying his breathing. “What do I do, Aerith?” he asked.</p><p>She looked at him, expression full of affection, but also bright with determination. “You do what you do best. Be there for people. Be the wonderful friend you are.”</p><p>He lifted a hand to hers, the one pressed to his face, and squeezed it tightly. It sounded simple, contrite even, but he knew that Aerith was not trying to be any of those things. Picking himself up off the mat after Angeal had been hard, but he had done it. Through the pain and the grief, he had found a new role and new purpose in SOLDIER. He had found Cloud and the gift of his wonderful friendship. He had even connected better with Sephiroth. Zack had survived, because he had kept trying. That was what she was trying to remind him of.</p><p>Once again, Aerith had helped him find exactly what he was looking for. All that was left was to pay that forward, to someone else who needed that reminder, too.</p><p>Smiling, Zack pressed another kiss to her hand. It said, lovingly, <em>Thank you.</em></p><p>---</p><p>The raucous ring of the telephone jolted Sephiroth awake so quickly, it felt something akin to a third level lighting spell, and the usually graceful General nearly fell out of his office chair. But he could forgive himself for being less than poised, after two days of being trapped in this infernal office, with papers strewn all over his desk and some even littering the floor around him. This was ridiculous. No, it had passed ridiculous sometime during the second week following the Junon attack. Sephiroth had always thought that one day Shinra would kill him, but death by excessive paperwork was not what he had in mind.</p><p>He took a moment to blink away the residual exhaustion hiding behind his eyes, before pressing on the speaker button of the phone. “General Sephiroth speaking,” he said.</p><p>“Sir,” his secretary replied, “A Lieutenant Zack Fair wants to see you.”</p><p><em>Again? </em>The puppy had been trying to get on his calendar for the past few days, calling his secretaries (he had to get a second one, just to keep his head above water) at regular intervals for the chance. Though Zack had a number of legitimate reasons for seeing him, such as discussing the upcoming SOLDIER exam or providing mission reports and training updates, Sephiroth had the sinking feeling that this particular visit was intended to be less than official.</p><p>To say that he was dreading it would be an understatement.</p><p>“No,” Sephiroth replied briskly and hung up, hoping that would be the end of that. He then leaned back in his chair and glanced up at the ceiling, focusing as much as he could on his breathing.</p><p>In all honesty, Sephiroth knew he was being absurd. He knew that Cloud deserved better than the wall of silence he had built, especially after he had acted so keenly to take from the blond whatever comfort he could give in the moment. But the truth was that everything was so tangled, so complicated, and, partly out of lack of time, but mostly out of fear, he had not had the chance to sort out the maze of emotions that that day in Junon had painfully wrought from his heart.</p><p>There were simple truths, to be sure. Genesis’s continued betrayal stung deep – watching the man soar away, leaving nothing behind but fallen feathers and hurtful words – ached terribly, the pain lingering longer than any other injury Sephiroth had ever experienced before. He had wanted so desperately for a different outcome, but it was to no avail. In the end, the two of them had fought once more, settling into that old dance, caving into their anger and their instincts, like the monsters they were bred to be.  </p><p>That realization made whatever he felt toward Cloud all the more confusing. In his dreams, the blond with those startling, disarming, amazing, and beautiful blue eyes was supposed to be his freedom, his salvation, the one that stopped the demon, the one that saved the vestiges of his humanity. And for those months they spent together, talking, training, Cloud was inching ever closer to being all that, but in a way that Sephiroth had not expected. When Cloud would touch his hand to give him a cup of tea or smile in that guileless way or laugh at something Sephiroth had said or just look into his eyes, it sent a spark straight through him. Contrary to what others may have thought, Sephiroth was not a heartless man – but he never thought himself capable of the depth of emotion that Cloud seemed to bring forth in him. It was so different from the kinship he felt with Genesis and Angeal, or the guarded affection he had shared for some of his caretakers in the past, like Gast and Ilfana. It was certainly different from whatever he felt whenever he was around Dr. Hojo. This was warmer, richer. It drew him in, and Sephiroth had the distinct sense that once he surrendered to it, it would never let him go.</p><p>That sense became a certainty once he kissed Cloud, felt those lips against his own. The relief, the desire, the <em>everything</em> at once became overwhelming. He realized that if he did not pull away, he would find himself more than willing to burn every star out of the sky for those blue eyes. If he did not separate, he would be a single stroke from the monster he was in his dream. For if he gave in and lost Cloud, his heart would not survive it. Sephiroth would then effectively be releasing the sliver control he barely maintained on whatever humanity he now had left.</p><p>He had thought he was coming to his savior but instead, he had met his maker.</p><p>The twist of fate was too ironic, too cruel. Even more than that, it was <em>unfair</em>. In his dreams, Sephiroth met the man that would kill him. But in reality, he was not blind to the way Cloud looked at him, not when he himself so desired those affections. And now, after Junon, Sephiroth keenly understood what exactly he would be asking of Cloud, if things were to unravel as the nightmare suggested. It was the exact burden Genesis almost forced him to carry, a weight that Sephiroth had cast aside out of fear, the responsibility that Zack, for all his strength and his honor, had nearly broken under. In the end, though he had only brushed that pain himself, Sephiroth knew it well enough. It was something he would never wish on an enemy, let alone the young man he now cared for so deeply.</p><p>No, it was better this way. Sephiroth had been selfish in seeking Cloud out in the first place, trying to indulge his curiosity, and then clinging to him even more tightly after the fact. It was far beyond time to let go, let the man live his life. He would retreat back to the solitude he was used to, before Cloud, before Zack, before Genesis and Angeal. For everyone, for the world, that seemed safest.</p><p>Of course, it appeared that the universe had different plans. Because without so much as a warning or even a polite hello, his office door burst open, and in walked Zackary Fair, dangling a bag of Wutaian take out from his fingers.</p><p>“Well, you look like absolute shit,” Zack said by way of greeting. Then, completely handwaving the fact that he was uninvited, the man added, “Ready for dinner?”</p><p>Behind Zack, one of the secretaries (the newer one, as the more experienced gentlemen had probably taken a break for dinner, which was evidently the opening Zack had been waiting for), scurried up. “Lieutenant, sir, you aren’t on the calendar!”</p><p>“Yes, I am, you just forgot. Wanna tell the General about how you forgot this very important meeting?” Zack said, eyebrows wiggling.</p><p>The young woman merely squeaked and rushed out of the room in response.</p><p>“Zack,” Sephiroth sighed, feeling the edges of a headache starting to rise. “She is correct that you aren’t on my calendar for tonight.”</p><p>“Wow, Sephiroth, I can’t believe you forgot this, too! You must be working too hard.” At this, the Lieutenant dropped the takeout bag on Sephiroth’s desk and sauntered over to look at the computer screen. He leaned forward, pulled up the General’s calendar and immediately began blocking off an hour of time with an appointment titled <em>Feeding the Puppy</em>, completely ignoring the fact that it conflicted with another budget meeting.  </p><p>“See?” Zack said, gesturing to the screen. “Now, let’s eat.”</p><p>“Zack.”</p><p>“I got those dumplings you like. And some noodles. And some sushi. Honestly, I got everything. You don’t seem like you’ve been eating much these days.” For emphasis, the younger man then sniffed the air around Sephiroth. “Or bathing, either. What the hell, Seph?”</p><p>“What do you want, Zack?” Sephiroth said instead. Based on the ridiculous antics, Zack appeared more determined than usual, which meant now that the best route tactically would be to get straight to the point and hopefully shorten the interaction.</p><p>Zack moved back to the other side of the desk and began brushing aside papers to make room for the food. “To talk,” he responded. “Though I’m sure someone with your genius brain could have figured that one out.”</p><p>“I did. I meant, what about?”</p><p>For a minute, Zack did not respond, instead settled into breaking open the food containers and handing Sephiroth a pair of chopsticks. It was only after everything was served and it was clear that there was no backing out of the dinner now, that the other man ventured, “How are you doing, you know?”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>Zack glared back, and the sight was surprisingly intimidating. “It wasn’t that long ago I had a mental breakdown in the SOLDIER lounge over what happened to Angeal and you set me straight in your office. Try again.”</p><p>Sephiroth resisted the urge to sigh aloud. He had fooled himself into thinking it would be easy to go back to the way things where, when there had been distance between him and everyone else on the Planet. But along the way, he had let Zack in, and apparently, there was no going back.</p><p>“I am…better than I was before,” Sephiroth began, eyes fixed at the way the steam rose off the dumplings in front of him. “Perhaps because things have been quiet, and there has been no sign or word of Genesis since.”</p><p>Zack nodded thoughtfully. “Alright. Makes sense. Though even if he did do something else, try to blow up another town, it would not have been your fault.”</p><p>Leave it to Zack to go for the direct route. If that was his strategy, then Sephiroth would do the same. “I broke protocol. Failed to eliminate a dangerous fugitive. Allowed him to escape. That would count as a massive blemish on any mission record.”</p><p>“And yet, instead of getting punished, you got a promotion. So, I say you are doing just fine.”</p><p>There was a part of Sephiroth then that nearly joked about the paperwork being a form of punishment, but he was not ready for such levity, nor could he find himself capable of it. “And yet, I feel responsible. It was my fault this all started. I should have been the one to end it.”</p><p>Zack paused at that, stuck a chopstick into a dumpling in contemplation. Then, he looked up and straight at the General, with something close to fondness in his eyes. “You know, someone once told me something very important in this very room, when I was feeling the exact same things that you are feeling now. He said that I had done my best, but that in the end, they had made their choices and we had made ours.”</p><p>The words began to settle between them, like a familiar song, distant at first, but growing louder and more recognizable by the second. Sephiroth was not sure what his expression looked like, but there must have been something like promise, like relief, because Zack kept pushing forward, continued, “He also told me that we could not make up for the past, only can try differently for the future. It was everything that I needed to hear in that moment. And I think, its what you need right now, too.”</p><p>And there it was, finally, the echoes of their previous conversation tumbling toward them, like waves reaching the shore. Somehow, in the recognition, Sephiroth could feel the edges of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips in response. Whatever anxiety he had earlier had now tempered, and he found himself saying, half-jokingly, “I’ll be frank with you. Whoever told you that had not a clue what he was talking about.”</p><p>“Oh, for sure, he’s absolutely clueless, about a ton of things,” Zack agreed, pointing the chopsticks accusingly, playfully at the General. “But I guarantee you, not about this.”</p><p>It was so easy, the confidence, the belief, it nearly quashed the question in the back of his mind of what Sephiroth had done to earn it. And yet, though that doubt remained, the silver-haired man could not help but feel a little more hopeful in return. After all, perhaps he should try and practice what he preached. It was true that the pain of Genesis’s choices would sting forever. But it was also true that the fact that the man was still out there meant that there was still a chance, for things to be made right once more. It was a chance that Zack had once wished for, and one that his friend clearly would refuse to let Sephiroth give up, even if he had to lend all his strength to the cause. In the end, that was all that Zack was trying to remind him of.  </p><p>Sephiroth allowed his eyes to soften, allowed himself to meet that friendly gaze. “Thank you,” he said.</p><p>Zack smiled. “You’re welcome.”</p><p>The two began to eat for a few quiet moments, in comfortable silence. But suddenly, the questioning quirk returned to Zack’s eyes, signaling that the conversation was far from over. Truthfully, Sephiroth had expected this, because he knew exactly what Zack wanted to ask about next, and the General was less keen on talking about this than he was about Genesis. Because while Zack believed he had no fault in what happened with their old friend, they both knew that was not the case when it came to <em>this.</em></p><p>There was no escaping it now. When it came to enduring pain, the easiest route Sephiroth found was straight through it.</p><p>“Cloud will be promoted,” Sephiroth said, putting down his chopsticks. “I signed the paperwork this morning.”</p><p>Zack raised a brow, but continued chewing for a moment longer, as if swallowing both the food and the thought. He asked, “Are you going to tell him?”</p><p>Sephiroth deflected. “It would be better coming from you.”</p><p>Unfortunately for the General, he was not as skilled at reading people or maneuvering a conversation as Zack was, and had not realized he had left himself wide open with his comment. His sharp Lieutenant took the opening immediately. “I agree with that now but would not have before Junon. So, tell me, what happened?”</p><p>The turnaround seemed all the quicker, given the lack of sleep and rest Sephiroth was suffering. He leaned back in his chair and shot Zack a halfway pleading look, hoping the man would drop the matter at the small show of vulnerability. But it only seemed to encourage Zack further.</p><p>“Cloud says it was his fault. But he looked hurt and you, right now, you look guilty. So, I know that’s not the story.”</p><p>“It is not.”</p><p>“Then, what happened?”</p><p>“Zack, please.”</p><p>Zack moved forward, elbows creaking on the desk. “If you won’t say, I’ll let you know what I think. I think that you like Cloud, far more than you like any other person. And you are too afraid to say it or do anything about it, too afraid of what might happen, of getting hurt and of hurting him in return.”</p><p>There was something like cold ice in Zack’s veins that was always hidden carefully behind the man’s unusually warm demeanor. But there was a reason why Angeal trusted him, why Genesis respected him, and it was because those who underestimated Zack Fair usually could not afford to make that mistake more than once. That much was becoming clear to Sephiroth. He may have the advantage in rank, stature, and combat, but Zack was fearless and knowing in a way Sephiroth knew he would never be.</p><p>And a good SOLDIER always knew when he was outmatched.</p><p>“Will you call me a coward?” Sephiroth asked, his voice quiet.</p><p>“Only if you don’t say it.”</p><p>Then, the truth. Sephiroth bent forward, cradled his head in his hands. He tried to will his heart to slow, to be silent, but it seemed far beyond his control now. He had been avoiding this for so long, because he knew speaking it out loud would render it a reality, one that would be tangible, undeniable, alive, with all the consequences and complications it implied.  </p><p>“I dreamt about him. Before I knew who he was, before you showed me his file. I dreamt about him.”</p><p>Judging from the expression of complete bewilderment on Zack’s face, that was not the truth the Lieutenant had expected. The younger man seemed to want to alternate between standing up and sitting down to contain his shock, leaning forward and back in his chair, jaw opening and closing shut. It made him look less like a puppy and more like a confused blowfish and the sight would have been rather amusing had not Sephiroth wished for this entire conversation, this entire evening, the anguish of it all, to end quickly.</p><p>Finally, Zack seemed to settle down, slumping in his seat. “What the – what was he doing? Uh, in your dream?”</p><p>That was not a detail Sephiroth was prepared to go into, so he opted for the vague, but honest, approach. “I was trapped, in danger, and he saved me. That’s why I reacted the way I did when you showed me his photograph.”</p><p>“And why you were so interested in him from the start,” Zack murmured, realization dawning on him.</p><p>Sephiroth looked down at his hands. “Yes.”</p><p>Suddenly, the Lieutenant’s eyes hardened, accusing, protective. “What exactly were you planning, Sephiroth?”</p><p>At the quick and palpable anger, Sephiroth found himself fumbling for words and praying that he was saying the right ones. But for someone as inexperienced in matters like this as him, it was like aiming for a faraway target in complete darkness. “I was not sure. I was just trying to get more information, determine the meaning of the dreams, what he knew and what he did not. I had not expected, I had not thought that I would –”</p><p>He stopped, recognizing the trail that he was rushing down, took a few mental steps back, felt trapped, felt confused, felt overwhelmed.</p><p>For once, Zack’s astuteness seemed to play to his favor, allowing the man to fill in the blanks easily. He softened. “It’s alright, Sephiroth. I don’t understand everything fully, but it’s alright.”</p><p>And yet, though he had heard the gentle response, Sephiroth’s mind failed to register it, because words just continued to barrel out of him, out of control. “I never intended to hurt him. I do not want to hurt him. But I do not know what to do.”</p><p>Zack darted his hand forward, placed it on Sephiroth’s shoulder. “I said, it’s alright. You’re alright.”</p><p>Another silence descended between them. Sephiroth allowed the tension to slowly ease from his body, let out a deep breath. His heart was still thumping widely and loudly, but the fringes of the panic that had been creeping up his arms and down his back seemed to now have retreated. Though it was now clearing away, for a moment, his vision felt too hazy, his head too heavy, like he had spent too much time underwater. He had not realized that he had forgotten to breathe while he was talking.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Zack said, shifting backward to give the man some space. “I didn’t mean to come at you like that. It’s just…that is some weird shit, you know?”</p><p>Sephiroth recognized the attempt using humor to defuse the situation and offered something similar in response. “How exactly do you think I have been feeling these past months?”</p><p>Zack barked a quick laugh. “Honestly, I was just expecting you to say that you liked Cloud, not this ridiculous soulmate dream level stuff, but hey, you never were one to do things by half measures.”</p><p>The tone did not sound biting, nor insulting. Instead, it was edging back on Zack’s usual cheer and optimism. Sephiroth looked up. “Then, you are not upset?”</p><p>Yet another glance of surprise from Zack, this one a little more controlled. “Upset? Maybe that you didn’t say anything sooner. Then again, I guess you can’t just walk up and tell a guy that you dreamt about him before meeting him in person, because that would be <em>creepy.</em>”</p><p>“Zack.”</p><p>“I’m a little jealous. It’s romantic. I thought I had the whole love-at-first-sight thing down with Aerith, but this is way cooler.”</p><p>The return of the Lieutenant’s unrelenting teasing was a small relief, but Sephiroth still found himself inwardly groaning.</p><p>“It is not romantic. I have become far too attached to him. And most people I become attached to…” He need not finish the sentence. Genesis and Angeal would forever be memories that tied the two of them together, burned and etched like matching scars. Sephiroth knew that Zack understood.</p><p>But the other man did not tell him to back down or stay away. He did something else entirely. Zack leaned back, another happy grin on his face. “You know, someone gave me some great advice. About not being able to change the past and trying again for the future.”</p><p>Sephiroth was almost tempted to laugh at that. Almost. He folded his hands, fingers intertwining with each other a little nervously. “It’s more complicated than that. I cannot explain it. I am not ready to.” Because how could he, when he could hardly explain what he saw in his dreams to himself?</p><p>The other man waited a moment, and it appeared that he was contemplating pushing further. But Zack seemed to think better of it, pulled back, like an enemy taking mercy. “Alright. I can live with that. But in exchange, you have to talk to Cloud. Say what you can. You at least owe him that much.”</p><p>Because that was the truth, Sephiroth nodded. The prospect of that conversation filled him with a distinct sense of terror, but it needed to happen. If he had been looking for a push, this was it.</p><p>“I will. I promise.”</p><p>That seemed to be enough for Zack, who smiled gently in response. Then, that smile turned into a smirk, and Sephiroth prepared himself for another eye-roll worthy comment. “Good. Now toss me more of those dumplings and let’s see if I can catch them in my mouth. Your calendar says you are supposed to be feeding the puppy, after all.”</p><p>This time, absolutely unreservedly, Sephiroth let himself groan out loud.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And with nine chapters completed, we are now more than halfway done with Part One. Feel free to let me know if you have any comments or feedback for me. I'm always down for a chat!</p><p>In the next chapter, Sephiroth tells Cloud the truth....</p><p>See you all next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Conversations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sephiroth and Cloud finally talk. And in the honesty, they find the promise for something even sweeter.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Hope you have been doing well this past week. Thank you again to everyone who commented, provided feedback, read, clicked, whatever! No matter what you do or how you engage with this fic, I appreciate each of you dearly. I would not be so encouraged to keep going with this without you.</p><p>With that, I hope you enjoy this chapter. We've had a whole bunch of hurt, now its time for some wonderful comfort!</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Kissing? I'm kidding, but on a more serious note, there are some hints of suicidal ideation on the part of one of the characters here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was one of those weeks in which nothing seemed to go right at all. First, there had been that assignment in Mideel, fighting monsters in a disgusting heat that glued Cloud’s SOLDIER uniform uncomfortably tight to his back. In his frustration over the humidity, Cloud had been a little careless, and, as a result, suffered a small injury to his left shoulder that remained sore in the following days. Then, there had been Roche, one of the two other SOLDIERs that were also assigned to the mission – which would have been perfectly fine, except for the fact that Roche could not keep his hands to himself and would not stop suggesting that they indulge in the local hot springs together (“Just wanna help you relax!”). And lastly, there had been the helicopter and boat rides to and from Midgar: while Cloud’s motion sickness had mostly abated after the enhancements, the ghosts of the old nausea and claustrophobia only exacerbated the mounting frustration he had over this whole ordeal.</p><p>As such, when he finally arrived at his apartment at the end of the week, Cloud wanted nothing more than to just shower off the travel and sleep. He was so insistent upon it that he ignored the handful of phone calls from Zack that had started to buzz his PHS the moment the return helicopter descended back within cellular range. No doubt Cloud felt guilty for purposefully dodging his friend, but this night, he was just too tired to be within Zack’s presence. In fact, he was just too tired to do anything at all, even think.</p><p>That was just as well. Thinking had not done Cloud any good. For if he allowed himself to, his thoughts consistently would wind down the same path – to green eyes and silver hair and an idiotic kiss and the fact that the man that haunted his headspace had hardly spoken a word to him over the course of the past six weeks. Whatever initial anger Cloud had toward Sephiroth’s avoidance had transformed into fury at himself, for even continuing to allow the man into his mind. Every day, Cloud would inwardly declare that enough was enough, that the whole pathetic routine had to end, and every day, it was as if the very cells in his brain and in his heart just could not help it. It would not matter if he were on a mission, training with Zack and other SOLDIERs, or out helping Aerith with some errands in the slums. Even when he closed his eyes, Sephiroth would be there, the memory of him shooting jolts of quiet pain all through his body. Somehow, Cloud went from weakling cadet, to capable SOLDIER, to heartbroken fool, all in just over half a year, all because of one man, all because of one kiss.   </p><p>But at least tonight, Cloud would be free from all that, because his exhausted body and brain simply craved a warm shower and, eventually, a soft bed. As he turned the knob, stepped into the tub, and felt the beads of water massage his sore back, Cloud let out a loud breath of relief. The shower felt like such heaven, and so, despite his enhanced hearing, it took him more than a few moments to register the sharp knocks coming from his front door. Cloud almost thought he had imagined it – but then the sounds repeated themselves, and the blond groaned at the thought of Zack barging into his apartment. The image of the boisterous puppy complaining about his failure to answer his PHS tested Cloud’s already depleted patience. And sure enough, as Cloud wiped the soap suds quickly out of his hair and turned off the water, he could feel the last shreds of energy he possessed starting to swell into a heavy frustration, like a storm-driven flood against a levee.</p><p>Still, he knew better than to ignore Zack now – that it would only make matters worse. Cloud stepped out of the shower and reached for his towel, taking a few seconds to dry himself off. He was just about to exit his bathroom when the knocking echoed once more, and, suddenly, the floodgates of his aggravation cracked wide open.</p><p>“Oh, fucks sake, Zack,” Cloud yelled, moving down the hall to his front door. “Gaia, I don’t answer your calls for just one night and you—”</p><p>The rest of the words (and the curses) remained lodged in his throat, because when Cloud swung open the door, a head of silver – not black – was standing right at the entrance.  </p><p>“Sephiroth,” Cloud breathed. At the sight of the man, his face and neck suddenly felt warm, though he stubbornly told himself it was just the residual heat from the shower. Then, of course, the recollection of said shower made Cloud realize that he was standing in front of the General with nothing but a towel on, and inwardly, he thanked Gaia that the night was dark enough to hide the flushing of his skin.</p><p>Sephiroth, for his part, actually looked a little embarrassed. “I apologize,” he began, eyes shifting away from Cloud. “This is clearly a bad time.”</p><p>Even after everything, Cloud had to admit that Sephiroth looked so endearing, his green eyes forcing themselves to stay focused on something slightly above Cloud’s head. The General was once again casually attired, in a black button up shirt and blue jeans. Cloud had not seen Sephiroth dressed in anything other than his usual uniform for the longest time, because they had not spoken outside of the work context for weeks. With that recognition, it then occurred to Cloud that he was currently supposed to be angry at Sephiroth, for that very reason. The heat of the anger then returned, simmering and seething, bolstered by his embarrassment.  </p><p>“You think?” Cloud said, gripping the towel around his hip even tighter. “What are you even doing here this late?”</p><p>“Zack told me you weren’t answering his calls.”</p><p>Cloud groaned once more at the mention of Zack. “I’m surprised he didn’t come barging in himself.”</p><p>“I offered instead,” Sephiroth said, looking down now. “Seeing as I owe you a conversation.”</p><p>This was honestly the last thing Cloud wanted tonight. He debated shutting the door in the man’s face, much like Sephiroth had been doing to him metaphorically over the last weeks. But there was something about the way Sephiroth’s shoulders, usually straight and proud, were hunched in self-consciousness, about the way his glance flickered to Cloud, to the wall, and then back to the ground, in alternating hope and fear. It was weird to think that the great General, who everyone in the world thought was untouchable, was now so clearly affected – and by Cloud, of all people. He had to soften a little at the thought.</p><p>Of course, that did not mean that Cloud was going to let him off the hook. “Fine. Come in,” he replied, stepping backwards to allow the man into his apartment. “I’m going to change first.”</p><p>Sephiroth nodded, followed Cloud into the living room, and sat down on the same couch that the blond had occupied in his post-mako-injection state all those months ago. Cloud watched him for a moment, all long limbs, shifting apprehensively on that uncomfortable and clumsy piece of furniture. The picture somehow bordered on strong, awkward, and charming, all at once. <em>Stop. Pull it together. </em>Cloud silently cursed his addled brain, refocused by turning away and walking to his bedroom. He returned a few minutes later in a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt.</p><p>“So, talk,” the blond said, as he moved to stand in front of Sephiroth. In a bid to keep distance, to keep his mind clear, Cloud dared not sit down, especially not this close to the man.    </p><p>Sephiroth opened his mouth to say something, then shut it quickly. “I am not sure whether to begin with an apology or an explanation,” he confessed.</p><p>Cloud crossed his arms. “I think I’ll need the explanation to see if I’ll accept the apology.”</p><p>“That is fair,” Sephiroth said. Then, as if finally noticing the chasm between them, he asked, “Do you want to sit?”</p><p>“No. Talk.”</p><p>The General sighed and glanced downward at his hands. His voice was strained, unsure, frightened, like a man wandering a minefield. “What happened in Junon – when I kissed you – I was not myself that day. I was taking advantage of you, to gain some comfort. That was wrong.”</p><p>It was supposed to be an attempt at reconciliation, at clarity, but the comment simply made Cloud a little angrier, and he knew exactly why. “So, your response to making that mistake was to avoid me for nearly six weeks after the fact?”</p><p>At the retort, Sephiroth nearly winced. “No. It was not – you were not a mistake. Believe me, Cloud. You were not. You are –” he trailed off, wrists rubbing on his thighs nervously. There were a few beats of silence, of wringing of hands, of downcast eyes, before Sephiroth finally whispered, “This is not going well. I am sorry.”</p><p>Cloud stared at the man now. He was trying. It was clear from everything about him that Sephiroth was trying so hard, on something that they both knew he was far from familiar or comfortable with. The pain in the green irises, the crease of the brow, the tense and quick breaths – it was all there, all proof that Sephiroth was pushing himself far past his usual limits, all for Cloud. That fact was enough to help smooth down the sharp edges of Cloud’s anger, of his humiliation, to remember that he owed the General enough now to at least try and meet him part of the way.</p><p>Slowly, the blond sank down to sit on the coffee table across from the couch. When he spoke next, his voice was calm, quiet. “No, I’m sorry, Sephiroth. Please, continue. I’ll stop interrupting.”</p><p>Sephiroth met his gaze now, a tiny bit of gratitude lighting his face. It did not look like Sephiroth had been sleeping much lately, the evidence of several nights of exhaustion and overwork marring the pale complexion. It was an indisputable fact that the General was beyond busy, particularly following Lazard’s death. And yet, in spite of the millions of other things he likely had to do, Sephiroth was here, on a late Friday night, talking to Cloud, trying for <em>him</em>.</p><p>Cloud reached out one hand, and let Sephiroth take it, let the man’s longer fingers enclose around his own. “I’ll listen,” Cloud said. “I promise.”</p><p>Sephiroth let out a breath. “Okay.”</p><p>He started at the beginning. He told the story, of the town on fire, of the dreams that started after Angeal and Genesis were initially presumed dead at Modeoheim. Of the sheer despair he felt in the lack of control, and of the secret thrill inside him at the exercise of unparalleled power and destruction. At that, Cloud’s eyes widened a little, but the gentle strokes of Sephiroth’s thumb against his knuckles reminded him of the way the man almost always sought permission before he touched, of his abundance of caution and care. That melted any worry, and Cloud found then that while there was fear for something in that moment, it was not of Sephiroth.</p><p>(<em>For</em> him, on the other hand…)</p><p>Then, Sephiroth spoke, honest and raw, about how the dreams had only compounded the doubts over his humanity, the same questions that began brewing in earnest as he researched the details of the experiments conducted on Angeal and Genesis. He explained that it felt as if his subconscious were trying to deliver a message that he could not translate, that he lacked the proper tools to understand, and that the disorder only made more egregious the mysteries at play regarding his life and history within Shinra and the Science Department. Cloud followed along, trying to wrap his mind around what seemed to be an ever-building conspiracy. He attempted to tie the strings together to Sephiroth’s stories of his childhood in the laboratories, to the scenes he observed in Junon and Modeoheim, to the tidbits of information about Angeal and Genesis that even Zack rarely shared. It was an overwhelming mess, like jigsaw puzzle pieces scattered all over a hardwood floor, and in Cloud’s tired state, he knew that complete comprehension would be an impossibility.</p><p>But that did not matter. None of those many details, however shocking or revelatory, mattered to Cloud. There was only one thing that did.</p><p>He waited until Sephiroth closed, quieted, then squeezed the man’s hand. “Okay. That’s a lot. I’ve got a ton of questions. But right now, let’s start with one.”</p><p>“Name it.”</p><p>“How do you feel?”</p><p>Sephiroth looked at him. “I do not understand.”</p><p>Cloud pressed further. “I mean, how are you feeling? With your dreams, with everything? How are you?”</p><p>The man did not say anything, but Cloud could see it, plain and clear, in those glowing green eyes. Anxiety, panic, pain, uncertainty, helplessness, hopelessness, exhaustion, grief, anger, madness, betrayal, sorrow. It was every terrible emotion, every horror, every trauma, destroying the man from the inside like a fire, all buried behind that expression. It was enough, simply, truly, enough. As soon as he looked at that face, there was nothing Cloud wanted more than to take some of that pain away.</p><p>“Oh, Sephiroth,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>He was about to reach forward, move closer, but abruptly, like a frightened animal, Sephiroth pulled away. “You do not have to be,” he murmured. “You should not be. I should be the one to apologize.”</p><p>Cloud blinked, shook his head briefly, pushed past the momentary confusion. “Now, it’s my turn to say I don’t understand.”</p><p>Shakily, the other man exhaled. Whatever confidence or comfort Sephiroth had tenuously built over the course of the last few minutes of speaking appeared to have vanished. The return of the nervous energy only made Cloud that much more apprehensive over what confession would come next.</p><p>(And it turned out, he was right to worry).</p><p>“Those dreams – I had begun to think they marked a destiny that I had no choice but to fulfill. But then, something changed, and I was suddenly free.”</p><p>“What changed?”</p><p>Sephiroth looked at him, at his eyes, with that same thoughtful, expectant, searching manner that he had displayed the very first time they had met. It had utterly bewildered Cloud then. But now, with these next words, he finally understood.</p><p>“You. You were there, in my dreams.”</p><p>Cloud’s lips parted slightly in surprise. “Me?”</p><p>“It was before I met you. I saw you, your eyes. You were the only one strong enough to stop me. You cut me down, and you set me free.”</p><p>The gears in Cloud’s mind began to slow, grinding together, clamoring and clanging, as if his own brain were trying to cut the processing, prevent him from reaching the inevitable and painful conclusion.</p><p>
  <em>Cut him down? Does that mean…?</em>
</p><p>”I kill you? In your dream, I kill you?”</p><p>There was a weighty pause. Then, in a tone that brokered no uncertainty, “Yes.”</p><p>It was like the threads of the evening, already tight and tense, suddenly snapped. Cloud stood up, nearly tripping over himself and the coffee table. The mere thought of it – of Sephiroth dying, and by his own hand – it was surreal and ridiculous and unfathomable and <em>excruciating, </em>like someone had ripped open his chest and tore out his still beating heart. In the next moment, Cloud thought of Zack, how the happy young man spent the weeks following the events in Modeoheim trying to hid his own tears from everyone in the world. He thought of Sephiroth, and how the fissures in his stoicism broke wide open after confronting Genesis in Junon. All at once, the feelings, the memories, the facts, the <em>everything</em> instantaneously tumbled down, chaotic and deadly, like the avalanches that occasionally plummeted from Mt. Nibel. Cloud attempted desperately to hold on to something, but he found that it all moved too quickly for him to grasp. No matter what he tried, his mind just scorched right through: Sephiroth dead. Sephiroth alive, with those tiny smiles he rarely shared. Sephiroth dead. Sephiroth with the gentle way he could hold Cloud’s hand<em>s. Sephiroth dead because of him.</em></p><p>The blond was moving before he even realized it, backing up and away from the couch. “You said this was before we met, right? Did you find me because of your dream?” Cloud asked, the words just spilling out of him like a speeding train. Then, the real implication dawned on him, the inexorable crash.</p><p>“Did you find me to <em>kill </em>you? Is that why you trained me? To make me your murderer?”</p><p>Surprise, shame, and sorrow all flashed across Sephiroth’s face. The man looked away. “I don’t know,” he admitted.</p><p>It made a cruel and twisted sense. Sephiroth’s two closest friends had died. He had spent his life in service to a company that treated him as nothing more than an attack dog to be unleashed when required and muzzled when not. Even in the man’s dreams, he found no mercy – only images of a monster that would burn out the entire life of the Planet. And then unexpectedly, there appeared some semblance of hope for a different path, for freedom?</p><p>“Oh, Gaia,” Cloud said, his hands starting to shake.</p><p>Sephiroth stood up, stepping closer to him, but not quite touching. He was speaking quickly now, as if trying to get everything out before Cloud’s mind reached its breaking point. “It might have been part of it, but I swear to you, it was not all. I was trying to understand what was happening, who you were. And then I met you, and got to know you, and everything <em>changed.</em>”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>Those hands moved, slowly, just hovering around Cloud’s face, waiting. Unconsciously, Cloud found himself leaning a little into their touch. Sephiroth felt tender and safe and the blond nearly sobbed at the thought that he would ever be the one to end <em>this</em>.</p><p>“I had wanted to learn why you were so special – and it turns out, it was in every possible way.”</p><p>“Stop. That’s too much. That’s—”</p><p>“The truth, Cloud. The truth. I do not know how else to explain it. I do not know why I began having these dreams or why you appeared in them or what they mean. All I know is that they brought me to you, and I have not stopped thinking of you since.”</p><p>Cloud stared at the other man, challenging. “Then why did you avoid me after Junon? Why didn’t you talk to me?”</p><p>Sephiroth’s eyes bore deeply into him in return. The man leaned forward, pressed their foreheads together, whispered, “I was afraid. I realized the depth of my attachment to you, and how painful the idea of losing you would be. But I also feared that if the prophecy in my dreams would indeed to come to pass, it would bring you the very pain that I nearly suffered that day – and I never want to hurt you like that. Ever.”</p><p>And then, one of those hands began to snake its way down the small of Cloud’s back, pulling him closer just as he did in Junon. It felt warm there, in that embrace, tempting enough to melt in. But the blond held back, braced himself against the taller man’s chest. After all, there was still one important point to address.</p><p>“So, you have no intention of dying like that, right?”</p><p>Sephiroth closed his eyes, breathed, honest and true. “Not anymore.”</p><p>They were definitely going to have to talk about the fact that there had been that intention to begin with, but Cloud decided to table that discussion for later. “I still have so many questions,” he admitted, though his fingers were now beginning to curl around the strands of silver hair that were falling in front of Sephiroth’s face.</p><p>“As do I,” Sephiroth replied. “And while I do not have much in ways of answers, I would still like to apologize. For avoiding you, for my cowardice, for not telling you this sooner, for everything else.”</p><p>Then, Sephiroth paused, those green eyes of his asking for permission. Between the haze of his exhaustion and the intoxication of the mere presence of the man in front of him, Cloud could hardly sort through the labyrinth of his own mind. There was just so much he still did not understand: not just about the dreams or why they had occurred or why he was even in them, but about Sephiroth himself. Certainly, he had learned a great deal about the man – his capacity for kindness, his patience, his grace, all characteristics that stood in stark contrast against the perfect weapon that Shinra painted. But the reality was that there was truth on both sides of that scale. Sephiroth was a study of paradoxes, a mystery of a man, evidently even to the General himself. For all his prowess and intelligence, he was often cautious and uncertain. And if those dreams held any meaning, portended any destinies, then the man holding him now was to be the one to destroy the word (<em>and he would have to be the one to stop him</em>).</p><p>But somehow, in that moment, the fear that Cloud logically knew should be there was missing. Perhaps it was the way those hands felt around his waist, controlled and careful and caring, or the way those eyes looked into his, full of promise and affection. In the end, it was enough, to make Cloud think that maybe, just maybe, they could find another way.</p><p>His blue eyes shifted up to stare into green. Cloud stood on his toes, leaned into those lips and said, softly, “Okay.”</p><p>---</p><p>That night, when Sephiroth dreamed of fire, it was something else entirely. Instead of an all-consuming inferno that raged and burned until nothing, but death, remained, the flames were contained in a hearth that ghosted a pleasant warmth over his skin. He was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, knees up, shoulders relaxed, and he felt oddly untroubled, in a manner he hardly remembered ever being in his lifetime.</p><p>In fact, he was feeling many things he had rarely felt before. There was warmth, of course, and comfort, settling deep in his bones. But there was something more than that – a quiet happiness, like those brief moments he had as a child when Professor Gast would read to him, or the wonderful exhaustion that overcame him after a thrilling spar with Genesis and Angeal. It was almost as if every good moment he had ever had, though few and far between, was bundled up into his chest, pushing away any sense of the usual loneliness and doubt and anxiety.</p><p>It was <em>peace.</em></p><p>The feeling was so sweet, but it was also so foreign, that Sephiroth simply had to take a cautious look around. The living room unfolding from the fireplace was spacious and rustic, with wooden floors and furniture and an exposed beam running across the ceiling into an open kitchen. There were washed dishes drying next to the sink, a vase of flowers sitting on the table, empty coffee mugs at two of the seats. The details told a clear story: this was someone’s home. Someone lived here, ate here, tended to the fireplace here. Everything about the scene was at once surreal, strange, and yet wonderfully familiar. But how could he reconcile the logical fact that he had never been here before, against the lightness in his chest that said here, out of all the places on Gaia, was where he was most comfortable?</p><p>(Was this what it felt like to belong?)</p><p>The obvious question then began to creep in his mind, but before he could formalize it, two arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck from behind, and from the corner of his eye, Sephiroth recognized that sunflower blond hair almost immediately.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Cloud whispered, with a gentle kiss to the back of Sephiroth’s head.</p><p>There was no resistance, none at all. Sephiroth could feel himself sinking into that embrace. What had he been thinking about? He had been thinking about how nice it would be to live in a place like this, to feel like he had a home with two dirty coffee mugs and a vase full of flowers and a fireplace, a place that was warm and full of color and not cold and sterile and dark and unfeeling like the laboratories and training rooms of his whole life. He was thinking about how it would be nice to build a home like this, here.</p><p>But even in his dreams, Sephiroth was too afraid to voice that thought aloud.</p><p>Luckily, the Cloud in his dream seemed to understand. The blond moved to sit beside him, curling their arms together. The silver-haired man let himself breath in the scent of Cloud’s hair – it smelled like pine, like warmth, like sun. In fact, it smelled a lot like this room they were sitting in.</p><p>“Is this your home?” he asked quietly.</p><p>Cloud curled their fingers tighter together. His eyes were dazzling in the firelight, and for a moment, Sephiroth was reminded of the proud and beautiful defiance of that crystalline blue against flames that were much angrier. Sephiroth decided he preferred this beauty, still strong, still proud, but welcoming and reassuring and content and happy. The other Cloud was mesmerizing, but this – this was <em>breathtaking.</em></p><p>There was a little laugh, and it sent Sephiroth’s heart completely off rhythm.</p><p>“You dork. It’s our home,” Cloud said, and then he leaned forward and sealed that hopeful promise with a kiss.</p><p>Then, Sephiroth awoke, the feeling of Cloud and that fireplace slipping away from him like water from his fingers. For a hazy moment, he almost mourned for it, until he realized that there was a spike of blond hair tickling the underside of his chin. The sleepiness began to fade, and in its place came a much more solid impression of reality: he was not in some mysterious house, but in Cloud’s apartment, the blond himself now snoring softly with his head buried in Sephiroth’s shoulder. It was almost too similar to his dream that it nearly caused Sephiroth to startle, but he stifled the shock in favor of not stirring the blond from what was likely a much needed rest.</p><p>The events of the night before began filtering back into his mind. After their conversation, he had carried Cloud into his bedroom, their lips finding purchase against each other’s the entire way through. But they had not done much more than that, because as soon as Cloud’s back had hit the bed, exhaustion barreled through him. It then occurred to Sephiroth that Cloud had just returned from a week-long mission in Mideel, and Sephiroth had fumbled out another apology for his behavior and tried to remove himself. But instead of telling him to leave, of letting him go, Cloud kept his arms around Sephiroth’s shoulders, and only sleepily smiled in return.</p><p>“Stay,” he had whispered, kissing him one more time. “I don’t want you to be alone anymore.”</p><p>He had said those words so easily, guilelessly, truly, that there was only one response that Sephiroth could give. So, he stripped off his shirt and jeans, climbed into bed next to the blond and was rewarded with the most pleasant dream and sleep he had had in ages. Something swelled in his chest at the thought – Sephiroth wasn’t sure if it was fear, hope, anxiety, desire – but all the same, he pushed it down quickly. There was time to examine those thoughts and those feelings later. Right now, all he wanted to do was rest here for a while longer, because while the dream had been beautiful, this reality was even sweeter.</p><p>With a tiny murmur, Cloud began to stir against him, the spikes of his hair brushing against Sephiroth’s skin. Slowly, the blond blinked himself awake, and then pulled slightly away in order to gaze up at him properly.  </p><p>“Hello,” Cloud said, smiling. “You stayed.”</p><p>“You asked me to,” Sephiroth replied. One of his hands slowly crept up, began tangling gently into soft blond locks.</p><p>“Mmhm,” the blond hummed in response, leaning into the touch. For a few pleasant seconds, they remained like this, wrapped in the sheets and in each other. Then, Cloud’s expression changed, darkening into something more serious. “Can I ask? What did you dream about?”</p><p>Sephiroth met that gaze. Even in the fog of sleepiness, even in the darkness of the room, the blue remained brilliant and bright. There was a part of him that realized then that he may likely never tire of staring into those eyes.</p><p>“You. Always you. But it wasn’t a nightmare. It was much more hopeful than that.”</p><p>Cloud softened. He pressed a light kiss to Sephiroth’s shoulder, before shifting just a little closer.</p><p>“Good, I’m glad,” he said.</p><p>Sephiroth smiled into the kiss that followed, let himself indulge in the softness of Cloud’s lips. His hands wandered down to that waist again, so amazingly small in his grasp. The kisses were slow, gentle, but then Cloud became a little more insistent, challenging, and that was enough to prompt Sephiroth into taking further action.</p><p>In a few swift motions, he grasped the blond by the hips and flipped them over, pushing Cloud down onto the bed. The smaller man responded to the move with a soft gasp, a tiny whimper, a sweet moan, and the noises were just too delicious to resist. Sephiroth took Cloud’s chin and kissed him back, deeply, sliding his tongue against and into those parted lips. All the while, Cloud continued to make those breathless and enticing sounds with each touch, with each meeting, the blond’s arms moving upward to circle around Sephiroth’s neck and shoulders, to tangle in his silver hair. For the next blissful moments, they stayed sweetly touching lips and tongues and hands, only breaking apart every-so-often to look into each other’s eyes and mark the desire, the affection, so plain, so clear, so unhidden, now, finally, so real.  </p><p>Then, just a little daring, Sephiroth’s right hand dipped a bit lower. His fingers teased against the hem of Cloud’s shirt, lifting up slightly, fingertips brushing the heated skin of that torso. He then paused to wait for tacit permission. But that was where Cloud appeared to stop, his body tensing in uncertainty. His flushed face stared up at Sephiroth with a little bit of regret and a lot of embarrassment.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Cloud murmured. “I just…it’s fast, and there’s so much we still need to talk about.” He looked afraid for a moment, as if worried that Sephiroth would take this hesitance as weakness, as an insult.</p><p>But that worry was utterly unfounded. After this night, there was no turning back. Sephiroth knew he would wait forever for Cloud, do anything, say anything – and all Cloud had to do was ask. The complete surrender was a thought that once frightened him, went against every bit of engrained discipline and control that had been trained and tortured into his body. But if that dream and this morning were anything to go by, he would be hard-pressed to find anything as perfect as this.  </p><p>“It’s okay,” Sephiroth whispered back. He hoped that the look on his face and the gentle manner with which he now kissed the blond’s cheek showcased every bit of affection and adoration he had. He shifted off the blond, repeated for emphasis. “It’s okay.”</p><p>In response, Cloud smiled in relief, pushed himself up on his elbows to sit upright on the bed next to him. For the following minutes, they sat in comfortable silence, letting themselves calm their furious heartbeats, slow their breaths. Sephiroth waited until Cloud signaled that he was ready, which the blond did with a quiet laugh and a glance upward at him through twinkling eyes.</p><p>“As it was, there is something I neglected to mention last night,” Sephiroth said.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>Sephiroth paused. He looked at Cloud now, with a little more deliberate focus, which made the blond sit straighter in attention. “I did not want to start with it, to make it seem like I was trying to distract you from the conversation we needed to have. But there was a reason that Zack was calling you insistently last night, and it was to offer you congratulations.”</p><p>He watched, waited for the meaning to sink in. Cloud’s brow furrowed at first, but then the tension seemed to melt away and in its place was a spark of joy, of excitement, of elation. The look that Cloud offered him now, the shimmer in the blue, the easy slope of his shoulders, the unguarded grin on those lips – that was a sight Sephiroth would remember, cherish, forever.</p><p>“I’m a Second?” Cloud asked.</p><p>“Congratulations.”</p><p>Suddenly, Cloud was in his arms once more, pressing kisses all over his face in between peals of laughter. “I can’t believe it. I can’t – oh, Gaia. Thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you – you and Zack both.” Cloud ran his hands through his blond hair, almost tugging at the strands in disbelief. “I can’t believe it!”</p><p>Softly, the silver-haired man smiled. “You deserve it. There is no one who doubts that.”</p><p>“But if you hadn’t taken an interest in me, if you hadn’t—”</p><p>Sephiroth moved forward to silence that untrue thought with a kiss. “It was your work, Cloud. This is your accomplishment.”</p><p>Cloud bit his lip, evidently still intent on turning that thought over in his mind, but at the very least, his stunning smile remained on his face. “I still can’t believe it,” he said softly, then laughed again. The young man moved off the bed and began pacing around the floor, in search of his PHS. “I have to call Zack and my mom, I have to—”</p><p>And then, he stopped moving, his hands dropping to his sides.</p><p>Sephiroth peered at Cloud, curious at the sudden change in demeanor. “What is it?”</p><p>The blond turned to him, earnest, gentle. “Is it wrong for me to be happy about this? It would not have happened had you not had those dreams. I don’t want to be grateful for something that makes you suffer.”</p><p>There was that feeling again, that swell in Sephiroth’s chest, and he finally realized what it was. It was that day he after his promotion when he found Genesis waiting in his new office, lounging atop the couch that was meant to be his gift. It was the first time Angeal invited him over for dinner, specifically making it a point to cook his favorite dish. And now, it was Cloud, remarkable even in his sweatpants and T-shirt, all hope and promise and freedom and every good thing Sephiroth had ever secretly wanted in his life. It was as if the trials of his past, the pain he had endured, suddenly found meaning. There was now a purpose to it all, and it was standing before him, illuminated only by the sunlight that was streaking through the curtains.</p><p>Sephiroth reached out his hand for Cloud to take, which the blond did without a second thought. “And if I happen to be grateful to them, too, for bringing me to you?”</p><p>Cloud looked up at him and grinned. “Then I guess I just have to make it worth it,” he said.</p><p>Another hopeful promise, sealed with another beautiful kiss.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah. Fluff. </p><p>To those who might be wondering, you may have noticed that there are eighteen instead of seventeen chapters planned. It turned out one of the later ones I drafted ended up far too long, so I split it in half. </p><p>On another note, if you are anxious about the fact that our two heroes have gotten together so soon...well, what can I say? The ride is going to be a long and wild one, and it is a planned trilogy, with ups and downs. But I promise you, there is going to be a happy ending. So I hope you stick around!</p><p>(That being said, in the next chapter, Hojo makes another appearance...)</p><p>See you all next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Secrets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>During another appointment with the Science Department, Sephiroth starts to tug at the threads of his truth. Cloud, Zack, and Aerith share a pleasant afternoon together. Meanwhile, a mad scientist makes a move...</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Can you believe we are halfway through March already? Time flies when you are having fun, and I most certainly am writing and sharing this fic. Thank you again for your wonderful comments and feedback and encouragement. The draft of Part One is close to being completed (with just one chapter left to be written), and I could not have made it this far without you all!</p><p>Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. We're going to be delving back into the plot that will carry us to the end of this portion of the trilogy, as certain things get set into motion...</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Hojo, mentions of past child abuse and human experimentation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When he was a child, Dr. Gast had told him to never stop asking questions, explained that it was the best method of learning. And Sephiroth loved learning, the way he could feel the gears of his mind shift and turn over and over until a thought, an epiphany, an understanding, finally clicked into place. So, he had inquired about everything – the books he was given, the tools in the laboratory, the lives of the scientists, technicians, and assistants that came in and out of his small world. Out of everyone, Gast and Ilfana were his favorites, because they had been the most generous with both their responses and their time. But one day, they had vanished, and while there were still a million questions, the man that remained was not willing to provide any more answers.</p><p>Dr. Hojo discouraged questions. He subscribed to the belief that independence was the best way to learn. But he also saw anything less than perfection as failure, which meant that any sign of confusion, of unknowing, led inevitably to the scientist wanting to root out the weakness. It only took a few days after Gast’s disappearance, a few hours of being strapped on the cold exam room table that felt like ice against the mako-heat coursing through his body, for Sephiroth to learn silence. If he did not understand the subject of a text or a combat technique, he now knew better than to express that ignorance. He would have to figure it out, even if it meant sneaking reading time under the covers or waiting until the dark of night to drill katas with the training sword. To do otherwise, to perform less than optimal standard – it was no longer an option.</p><p>But try as Sephiroth could to ignore them, the questions were still there, like a constant electric buzz ensconced in his mind. As Sephiroth grew, they stopped being about childish things, like whether the dragons in the fairytales Ilfana read him were real or why the spectacles Gast wore improved the man’s eyesight but worsened his own. Paradoxically, the questions he now wanted to ask had become greater in meaning but smaller in focus, condensing like a collapsed star into one particular topic.</p><p>His mother.</p><p>It was the single issue Gast refused to speak about (though even as a child, Sephiroth could see the remnants of something sad in the man’s eyes, like the lingering scent of a candle that had been snuffed), that Hojo instead was surprisingly more verbose on, though not by much. All that Sephiroth knew about her could fit in the space of a few sentences: that her name was Jenova, that she had died when he was born, that she looked like him with sharp eyes and long hair, and that she had left him in the care of Shinra because that was what she believed was best. But it was as if Sephiroth was the only thing left of her in this world, like he was the ghost of her memory left to wander the Planet, a faint whisper in the wind. He had come to realize later that his mother was the first in the distinct pattern that grew with Gast and Ilfana, Genesis and Angeal – gone, evaporated, disappeared, leaving nothing but a hollow emptiness (<em>in his heart)</em>.</p><p>And then, there was Cloud. He brought something out of that emptiness, things Sephiroth had never felt before and things that, after all he had been through, he never thought he would be capable of feeling again. It was frightening in the unfamiliarity, in the fact that the climb so high had the potential to lead to an excruciating fall. But in the weeks since that night at Cloud’s apartment, it had become much harder to stay afraid. Any fear seemed to wash away the moment Sephiroth would see those tufts of blond hair, feel that smile pressed against his lips. Being around Cloud made the air seem heady and hazy, like a cloying summer day. It had been too sweet a distraction, too easy a temptation to lose oneself into, completely.</p><p>At least, at first.</p><p>When he was younger, Sephiroth studied the theory of equilibrium – that concept that life had a way of returning to what was its natural state. And his lifetime of experiences provided a mountain of evidence: that the emptiness was Sephiroth’s equilibrium. He had Gast and Ilfana, and they left. He had Angeal and Genesis, and they left, too. The only difference now, with Cloud, was that Sephiroth was certain that this strike would be the end of him. Sephiroth was certain, because even though being with Cloud, their dinners at his apartment, their furtive kisses in his office, brought him an easy joy that felt incomparable to anything he ever had before, there was always something still missing at the edges, like a damaged cog that had been so filed down, it would no longer fit in the machine. It took some time for Sephiroth to realize what that was. But when it came, it barreled into him, hard.</p><p>They had just finished dinner. Cloud was smiling from behind the sink, Sephiroth leaning on the counter nearby (<em>Cloud always insisted on washing the dishes if Sephiroth cooked, and after noticing how strong the blond’s forearms, exposed by the rolled sleeves, had become, Sephiroth no longer found it in him to protest</em>). They had been chatting about something casual, a birthday party that Cloud had been invited to by one of his fellow Seconds, when suddenly, the blond’s face had darkened and he grew ever silent, until the only sound between them was the running of water against the metal of the sink.</p><p>Sephiroth had marked the change immediately. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Cloud had turned off the water, began drying his hands and arms on the towel that was placed on the counter. “When is your birthday?” he asked, peering up at the taller man.</p><p>Sephiroth knew the real question was, <em>do you know when your birthday even is?</em> He also knew that Cloud did not want the implications of such words to reopen old wounds. But the desire was there, the intent to know Sephiroth, learn his truth, see past the surface spectacle, be with the human and not some sculpture molded by Shinra. It was why Cloud so willingly shared himself with Sephiroth, told him the things on his mind and in his heart freely and openly, allowed the other man to build a lasting space in his life. In response to such remarkable vulnerability, Sephiroth knew Cloud deserved something true.</p><p>And yet, it was hard when everything that the world designated as normal and real felt both strange and foreign, and when the old wounds refused to scab over and heal and instead festered into open sores that begged to be hidden. Once upon a time, he would have been afraid of showing the damage, for fear it would turn others away. But there was just something about Cloud. The way those beautiful eyes looked at him, with care and longing and something else that neither of them were willing yet to name. From that brilliant blue, Sephiroth knew that he did not want to hide any longer.</p><p>The problem was, he himself did not know what was hidden, what the secrets were and where they slept, because he had been trained to stop asking those all-too-important questions long ago.</p><p>Which was what brought him to today, to the conflict brewing in his mind between his impeccable discipline and his desire for the truth. The silence of the Science Department exam room and Hojo’s terrible habit for tardiness (the man never began any of his appointments on time, despite the fact that Sephiroth had plenty of other things to do. But what scientist cared about the plans of a lab rat, unless it was relevant to the experiment at hand?) did not help matters, as the lack of distraction only made it easier for Sephiroth to trap himself in his own head. His mind kept flickering to the sight of Hojo years ago, how the man’s expression soured with impatience the last time Sephiroth had allowed his curiosity to get the better of him. How that impatience turned into cruel glee when he was then subjected to a <em>healing aptitude</em> <em>test</em> for his defiance. The memory, the now invisible scars, were reminders of the limitations of Sephiroth’s existence, of the truth of his life that he thought he always had known.</p><p>But then, Sephiroth thought about Cloud. Cloud, who had surprised him at his apartment early in the morning with coffee and a bagel and a promise that he would be waiting for him when he returned. Cloud, who sent him images of funny animals, who never liked ending a day without at least texting him good night. Cloud, who had seamlessly folded in the routine of Sephiroth’s life, as if he had always belonged there. Cloud, who had changed everything about his subconscious world, even before he began to transform his waking one.</p><p>The choice was clear.  </p><p>Finally, nearly half-an-hour past the scheduled time, Hojo walked into the room, muttering under his breath something that even Sephiroth, with his sharp hearing, found indecipherable. The scientist barely spared him a glance, only pulled up a file on his tablet and began slapping on disposable gloves from the box on the adjacent table.</p><p>“You’ve lost weight again,” Hojo said, scrolling through the list of vitals the lab assistant had taken earlier.</p><p>Sephiroth had spent enough time in rooms like this to know when the man was simply making a comment or was actually seeking a reply. This was the former, and he knew because Hojo kept his eyes straight on the tablet and did not even turn his head to acknowledge him.</p><p>Instead, the scientist simply kept talking. “I suppose it is because of the additional work you’ve been doing. Why they elect to keep something like you behind a desk instead of out on the field is beyond me. But that moron Heidegger doesn’t want to hire a new director in hopes of folding SOLDIER into Public Security. Too much power in the hands of a monkey.”</p><p>A pause. Hojo chuckled under his breath. The sound never failed to set Sephiroth on edge, but he kept his face as neutral as possible, watched in silence as the man pulled out a glass cylinder of mako from his lab coat, shaking it between his thumb and index finger unthinkingly.</p><p>“The politics they play. No matter. We have much more important work to do.”</p><p>Even after all these years, of hearing the man’s mumbling, witnessing his experiments, being one of them, Sephiroth still had no inkling what Hojo meant. The lack of knowledge, the inescapable ignorance – it had bothered him before, especially after the discoveries made about Angeal and Genesis, but now…now, it had become something else entirely.</p><p>The scientist slotted the cylinder into a mechanical syringe, tapped the glass with his fingers to ensure proper positioning. Then, Dr. Hojo stepped up to Sephiroth, without a notion of hesitation in his movement, clearly expecting the General to be as pliant as usual. But not this time. The brief flicker of surprise on the twisted man’s face when Sephiroth quickly captured the arm that came toward him was awfully, teasingly, satisfying.</p><p>“What work?” Sephiroth asked.</p><p>Hojo tried tugging away, but they both were fully aware who was the prime physical specimen. When Sephiroth failed to give, the man then snarled, “What do you think you are doing?”</p><p>“That’s my question.”</p><p>“I thought you grew out of this tired habit, boy.”</p><p>“I have a right to know.”</p><p>At that, the scientist started to laugh. He dropped the syringe, let it clatter onto the metal exam table, and Sephiroth was so startled by the seeming surrender that he released Hojo from his grip.</p><p>“You have no rights, none at all,” Hojo said, straightening himself and pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Your mother signed you away, to Shinra, to me.”</p><p>That was a new piece of information. Hojo never said words without meaning, without context. <em>Signed</em> was significant. It meant records, a trail. It meant something.</p><p>Sephiroth pushed further. “Why? Did she work for Shinra?”</p><p>There was a flare in Hojo’s eyes at the question, and though Sephiroth could not read it, he did not have to. It was not confirmation, not even close. But it was enough.</p><p>The snarl on Hojo’s face returned, and his eyes narrowed sharply, hauntingly, from behind his glasses. “What has gotten into you? The incident in Junon was months ago. Or perhaps…the new variable is your protégé?”</p><p>It was as if alarm bells were ringing in Sephiroth’s mind. The mention of Cloud, the thought of the blond at Hojo’s mercy, however brief, was enough to turn his blood into ice. He could feel the defiance start to slip out of him like water from a spilled glass – a shameful contrast from the unbreakable backbone of steel that Cloud seemed to possess.</p><p>(Then again, Cloud did not grow up with a parent who made it his life’s work to break him in the first place).</p><p>Hojo was not a stupid man. He knew a victory when he saw it, and he knew he had one in this moment. “Remember what I told you about sentiment, about it being weakness,” he said, nearly tutting has he moved forward once more. The condescension would have angered Sephiroth, had he not been focused on acting as obedient as possible, to steer away the conversation, to distract, to evade.</p><p>It seemed to work, because instead of pushing down the path, Hojo merely picked up the syringe and plunged the needle into Sephiroth’s arm. Sephiroth closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, hoping that would be enough to divert him from the burning sensation that pulsed from the injection throughout his entire body. It would be over in another minute. Just another minute. Then he could go home, see those blue eyes that had given him real hope for the first time he could remember, and fall into those happy, peaceful arms.</p><p>The seconds felt like hours, but finally, Hojo pulled the needle out. “We’re done here,” he said. He began making notations on the tablet, grumbling all the while, before exiting the room as abruptly as he came.</p><p>That was for the best. The scientist missed the hard and darkened glare Sephiroth shot at his back as he left. Because while Sephiroth knew he lost this round, he now had a reason to try and win the rest of the war. It had been an exercise in futility, to think that Hojo would provide him the whole truth today, simply because he had tried to ask. But that was not the target Sephiroth was aiming for. Like any good General, he knew that smart strategy and sound victory came from information, and Hojo in his careless cruelty had slipped up and left him a thread to tug at and unfurl. Now, it was a matter of deploying the right man for the mission. And he knew just the person for the task.</p><p>Once outside of the Science Department floor, Sephiroth flipped open his PHS and dialed the number.</p><p>“Sergeant Kunsel, we need to meet.”</p><p>---</p><p>Early winter in Midgar was nothing like in Nibelheim. Even in the first weeks of November, Mt. Nibel would be coated with snow, and cold air would slice cleanly through the town with each yawn of the wind. By contrast, the climate in Midgar was mildly nippy, almost pleasant, as if the steel that surrounded them had managed to block out most of the effects of nature itself. There was probably some truth to that, and whether that fact was amazing or dangerous was something that Cloud was still trying to decipher.</p><p>Still, there was a part of him that was grateful that his fingers did not feel like they were going to fall off each time he pulled his hands out of his pockets. As it was, the early afternoon air was just sharp enough to be refreshing, perfect for a day spent outside enjoying the wares and fares of Sector Eight, now in full swing in preparation for Yule. All throughout the paved streets, stalls full of artful crafts, interesting books, and sizzling street foods lined the sidewalks, and in between the lanes they carved, several Shinra employees sat at makeshift tables to enjoy the early happy hour specials. The atmosphere was warm with happy chatter and the smell of mouthwatering baked goods, and young children just freed from school were darting in between the vendors excitedly. Though none of kids could match the excitement of the grown man Cloud was with at the moment.</p><p>“Gaia, look at that, that looks cool!”</p><p>Cloud shook his head, watched at Zack bounded toward another stall selling mechanical figurines of trains and cars and motorcycles. Next to him, a girl with brunette hair tied up in a braided ponytail laughed, the motion shifting the basket of flowers she had tucked in her right arm.</p><p>“Pretty sure he said that about the last place we saw,” Aerith said, looking at Cloud with a twinkle in her green eyes.</p><p>“No, he said the last one was awesome, not cool,” Cloud pointed out, though not without amusement. “And the one before that was amazing.”</p><p>Aerith grinned. With a conspiratorial whisper, she leaned closer to him and added, “He’ll run out of words at some point. He doesn’t know that many.”</p><p>The meet-up had been at Zack’s request – he had promised Aerith that he would accompany her above plate to help her sell flowers, but he also still owed Cloud a meal in celebration for his promotion. But since becoming a Second, Cloud’s calendar had ramped up to include running a few of the daily training sessions with the newest class of Thirds. Moreover, in a partial bid to save his sanity (and, well, at Cloud’s insistence), Sephiroth had begun offloading some more of his responsibilities to Zack and the other Firsts. While the Lieutenant had been happy to take on the work, it did mean that finding time to spend together had become much more difficult. Cloud supposed that was just the mark of growing up.</p><p>But somehow, the stars managed to align for all of them on this day. It was just so perfect that Zack decided to kill two birds with one stone, and Cloud readily agreed, as it had been a while since he had seen Aerith. So, the two SOLDIERs met with the florist at the train station just before the lunch rush, and trio headed for one of the new up-scale burger joints that had recently popped up in Sector Eight. The food was delicious, and the banter light and wonderful, full of jokes at Zack’s expense (“I regret it. I should have never let you two become friends without my supervision. You both suck!”) and congratulatory praise for Cloud’s accomplishments. At the end of the meal, Cloud was simply alight inside with warmth and joy, from both the fullness of his satisfied stomach and the geniality of the pleasant companionship.        </p><p>There was only one thing that could make the day better, but unfortunately, Sephiroth was trapped in some conference room with other Shinra executives to discuss budget plans for the upcoming year. And even if he could have joined them, they had their reasons why he should not.</p><p>The thought of the man nearly made Cloud sigh aloud now. There was still a piece of him – tied to the younger teen who hung up that poster of the General in his bedroom – that was still in utter disbelief at the fact that he was in a relationship with <em>Sephiroth</em>, of all people. Though he supposed by normal standards, and especially compared to Zack and Aerith, theirs was certainly an odd and awkward one. They had yet to tell anyone or make their affection in public in anyway, partly because Sephiroth was a very famous man and Cloud did not want any crazed Silver Elite members invading his apartment, and partly because Cloud was still wary of what his fellow SOLDIERs would think. Though the rumors that had circulated in the early part of his career had been silenced after his accident and put to bed permanently by what happened at Junon, Cloud did not want to give anyone any excuse to start wagging their tongues again.</p><p>But the real rationale for the secrecy was that this whole experience was just so new for the both of them. They wanted to keep it to themselves for a little while longer, explore this new territory and each other, in the comfort that privacy afforded them. Their relationship now felt like a natural continuation of what they had been doing before – the conversations largely similar to the latter stages of their friendship. Except now, Sephiroth had willingly opened another door, the one to his emotional inner life. He talked about his anxieties over his identity, his concerns about his lack of knowledge over his history, his frustration with Shinra’s bureaucracy. They discussed his dreams, theorized about what they meant, wondered whether they could be all that bad if they had brought the two of them together. In the end, though they failed to arrive at any concrete conclusions, Sephiroth had chalked them up as shadows of his unaddressed grief over the events of the prior year, over what had happened to Angeal and Genesis. For Cloud’s part, it had been strange to crack open the visage of the man who had seemed so unbreakable and so perfect, to see the larger scope of the damage wrought by the greed of Shinra, the horrors of war, the callousness of others. But all that simply made Sephiroth more beautiful to him, and Cloud made sure that he let the man know it, whether through words or through actions.</p><p>In fact, the physical element seemed to intensify their intimacy, like roots digging in another layer. Though Cloud had only kissed two people before in his life (as much as he hated to count that incident with Roche) and thus had little to compare, he felt like there would never be a need to. Sephiroth kissed him in such a manner that made Cloud certain he would never want to be kissed by anyone else, ever again. Each brush of lips, each casual touch, left him breathless and hazy, and always wanting more.</p><p>And yet, they had not gone much farther than that, stuck to wandering hands that teased endlessly but otherwise remained relatively chaste. The desire from both parties was there – and every once in a while, Cloud nearly found himself throwing away rationality in a mess of lust, with only Sephiroth’s unparalleled discipline to stop them. But the same reason that motivated them to keep the relationship secret also rendered them hesitant to push this too far, for fear that it would break the precious, wonderous thing still blossoming between them.</p><p>(Though if Cloud were being honest, the caution was starting to drive him a little wild. He was, after all, eighteen-years old and it did not help that he had indulged in one or two secret fantasies about Sephiroth before they even got together, not that he would not dare admit that to the man out loud…yet).</p><p>Regardless, despite all of those complexities and worries, the truth was really simple: Cloud would rather be with Sephiroth than without him, especially on a day like this, with the sunlight glinting on the cobblestoned sidewalks and sparkling against the glitter of the fake snowflakes strung from the rooftops. It was enough to prompt him into sending a sidelong glance toward the Shinra Tower, the steel monstrosity cutting through the pleasantness in more ways than one.</p><p>And yet, though he should have known better, Cloud had not expected his companion to catch the subtle motion. “Flower for your thoughts?” Aerith asked, her voice sweetly cutting through his reverie. Playfully, and for emphasis, she held up one of her stems in between her thumb and index finger.</p><p>Cloud blinked in surprise. But with the insistent way Aerith flicked her wrist, he knew he had no choice but to accept the proffered flower. That did not mean he was willing to give anymore. “It’s nothing,” he said, staring hard at the petals and ducking his head into the neck of his jacket.  </p><p>“Doesn’t seem like nothing.”</p><p>“It is.”</p><p>“Seems like you were thinking about someone important.”</p><p>Gaia, she was almost too clever by half – a strange, otherworldly habit of somehow just knowing. It was so on the point that Cloud could only blush and look away.</p><p>Aerith quirked her brow and was about to provide another retort when Zack snuck up behind her quickly and lifted her up by the waist, earning a shocked squeal and a few smacks to the arm for his trouble. “Zackary Fair!” she yelped, squirming in protest.</p><p>“Aerith Gainsborough,” Zack replied teasingly, setting her back down on the sidewalk. In response, Aerith took her basket and whacked him again with a huff.</p><p>Cloud smiled at the sight, but his heart twisted ever so slightly. The two had such an easy affection for each other and had no qualms about putting it on display. As much as he cared for Aerith and Zack, admired their relationship, he could not help but envy it, just a little.</p><p>“What were you two talking about?” Zack asked. “Were you guys scheming against me?”</p><p>“Yes,” Cloud deadpanned.</p><p>Aerith smirked. “Trust me, we don’t need an elaborate plan to best you.”</p><p>Zack put both his hands on his chest in mock heartbreak, but the effect was marred somewhat by the lopsided grin on his face. “You two are killing me here,”’ he said. Then, like a literal puppy, he sniffed the air, catching a waft of something that clearly delighted him. He whipped his head around for a moment in search of his prey and finally settled on a bakery stall down the street with sweets displayed neatly on ceramic plates. Next to the goods was a container of hot chocolate, which evidently was the scent that had caught Zack’s attention.</p><p>“Gaia, that cocoa smells fantastic!”</p><p>“And here I hoped you would run out of words,” muttered Cloud, which caused Aerith to stifle a laugh behind her hands.</p><p>But they followed Zack anyway to the stall, objected (uselessly) when the man nearly ordered three of everything in his excitement, and sat down at one of the empty tables nearby, disposable and steaming cups in hand. The chocolate tasted almost a bit too sweet, at least in comparison to the brew that his mother made and that had been Cloud’s go-to source of comfort and warmth during the Nibelheim winters, but it was satisfying, nonetheless. After a few minutes of chatter, of enjoying the taste, he could feel himself settling in his chair, shoulders falling and elbows leaning on the table. In his relaxation, Cloud let his mind briefly wander, to wonder if he should take a cup of cocoa to Sephiroth when they returned to the tower. Cloud imagined the small but grateful expression, the soft smile, the happy kisses he would probably receive in return. Yes, that would most certainly be worth it.</p><p>“Cloud, you’re doing it again,” Aerith interjected, chewing on one of the pastries that Zack had stacked in front of them.</p><p>At that, the blond sighed, quietly scoffed at her, before taking another sip of his cup. Meanwhile, Zack glanced back and forth between them in confusion.</p><p>“I missed something,” he said.</p><p>“It’s nothing,” insisted Cloud.</p><p>The quick reply was a tactical error, because Zack immediately recognized that it meant that there was indeed <em>something</em>. The Lieutenant shifted in his chair to look at Aerith for more information, but the girl merely shook her head humorously.</p><p>“Oh, not going to tell me anything? But I bought you guys hot chocolate and sweets!”</p><p>“You’d have to ask Cloud,” teased Aerith. “I, on the other hand, will not be bought.”</p><p>Zack levelled Cloud with his best questioning look. The blue eyes, sharp with mako, swept over him, and Cloud did his absolute best to school his face into a dispassionate expression, turning away slightly to obscure the heat that was rising from his neck and onto his face. He hoped that it was just from the warmth of the hot chocolate, though he knew himself better than to believe that the whole truth.</p><p>Unfortunately, Zack shared Aerith’s uncanny penchant for reading people – and he had the benefit of knowing Cloud for longer. Which meant he could ask better questions and could be a bigger shit about it, too. And that was exactly what he did.</p><p>“How’s Sephiroth?” Zack asked, grinning irreverently.</p><p>Cloud kept his face squarely on the steam rising from his cup, but for all his strength and stubbornness, he knew there was no force that could match this puppy when he had his target in his sights. “He’s working,” the blond said, briefly trying his best to delay the inevitable.</p><p>It was no use. Zack pressed forward. “I noticed that you aren’t mad at him anymore. I figured he must have taken my advice and talked to you.”</p><p>“He did.”</p><p>“And how did that go?”</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>Zack chuckled, leaned back in his chair. “I’m your friend, Cloud. I’m his friend, too. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”</p><p>Cloud looked up at Zack now, brow furrowed. “No. It’s just that…we weren’t ready to tell anyone yet.”</p><p>His friend tilted his head, contemplating that statement, before nodding. “I get that. You should know, though, that half of SOLDIER already thinks you’re dating, and the other half is taking bets on when you’d start.”</p><p>That made Cloud groan, mortification now shading his face an even deeper red.</p><p>Next to Zack, Aerith laughed. She reached forward, patted Cloud’s hand with hers gently, comfortingly. “Zack is only teasing. So was I. I just meant to say that you look happy. That’s what really matters.”</p><p>There was nothing malicious, or even remotely mocking, in her eyes. Cloud knew that she meant every word, her genuine care filtering through her touch. It was odd, the way her serenity and her aura just seemed to soothe automatically. He could see why Zack loved her so much.</p><p>“Thank you, Aerith,” he whispered, squeezing her hand back in reply.</p><p>“Hey, what about a ‘Thank you, Zack’? I feel like I deserve the credit for this relationship!”</p><p>Cloud rolled his eyes. “Really? What do you want then? A prize?”</p><p>The Lieutenant smiled. “How about a double-date? That’d be fun, right?” he said, turning to Aerith.</p><p>It was then that Cloud noticed it. A flicker in those green eyes, but whether it was fear, uncertainty, anxiety, excitement, he could not quite place it. But what he was able to recognize made him all the more curious – because he had seen that look before, the glimmer that hinted at something terrible, something secret, something inescapable. It was the same look Sephiroth would give him before delving into the story of his dreams or recounting the tale of a dreadful trauma he suffered in the past. It was not a look he expected to see on someone like Aerith, and yet, somehow, in the middle of what had been a perfectly lovely afternoon, it was there.</p><p>He knew Zack caught it too, but it was clear that the man had no idea exactly what it meant, because he simply pulled away, guilt coloring his expression.</p><p>“Babe, did I say something wrong?” Zack asked.</p><p>Aerith shook her head. Whatever passed in that moment seemed to disappear just as quickly as it came. The girl tucked it away with a practiced care behind a veneer of cheer and optimism. That was one advantage she had over Sephiroth: her ability to understand and read people meant she knew how to fashion appearances if she had to. But Cloud now knew better. He also knew, however, that it was not his place to say anything at all.</p><p>“No, you’re fine, Zack. Just felt a little dizzy. Must be all the sugar,” Aerith said, brushing his arm gently. She then returned her attention to Cloud, skillfully maneuvering past the moment. “It would be fun, though, if you two are comfortable.”</p><p>Cloud only nodded in response. He spared a glance at Zack, who did not appear convinced, but who was polite enough not to show it or question it in public. It was beyond rude of him to speculate on a relationship that wasn’t his, but Cloud had the feeling that this was a strange sticking point for the two of them, whatever this was. All that Cloud understood was that even in their brief time together, Aerith just felt <em>different</em> from most people. The way she carried herself, the way she spoke – it all hinted at something deeper, something buried, something meaningful. Yet another odd parallel to the man he had somehow ended up with, though Aerith’s energy certainly came off as more natural and less threatening. But unlike Sephiroth, who had mysteriously been prompted to be open with Cloud as a consequence of those dreams, Aerith did not seem ready to reveal this part of herself to Zack. Despite the fact that the man would obviously be more than receptive, more than supportive, more than caring.</p><p>As he sipped on the last of his drink, Cloud wondered if he and Sephiroth were not the only couple who had to deal with the burden of unknown secrets.</p><p>He just hoped that none of them would break under their weight.</p><p>---</p><p>The file was a study in contrasts. Before March, before the SOLDIER exam, Cloud Strife had been unremarkable – no, scratch that – he was <em>insignificant.</em> A two-time failure of the entry exam that should have been washed out along with the rest of the dreck in the infantry. And yet, here he was, post-exam, post-mako exposure, and his file read like the early resume of a future elite operative. Usually, Dr. Hojo paid little attention to the comings and goings of SOLDIER; beyond his investment in the General, there was no need to get involved in the weeds. He left the task of the physicals and injections to his lab assistants, as he had much more important things to do, more important discoveries to make, more important questions to answer.</p><p>Such as the question of why this particular young man had caught Sephiroth’s interest so readily.</p><p>Hojo scrolled through the tablet, reading through the file once, twice for good measure, though he had already made up his mind. If his hypothesis was correct, then this situation could prove fruitful, not just for Shinra (he could care less about that), but for the larger experiment that had been his sole focus for years, since Gast had abandoned the Jenova Project and left it and Sephiroth in his hands.</p><p>And well, if his hypothesis was not correct, then he supposed that would also tell him something. That was the thing about the scientific method – sometimes, it required a bit of sacrifice, a bit of wrong, to find the right.</p><p>He buzzed the intercom. A moment later, a lab assistant appeared, mousy in her white coat. “Yes, Doctor?” she said.</p><p>“Second Class Strife is scheduled for his next set of enhancements next week, yes?”</p><p>The assistant typed a few things into her tablet, then looked up and nodded her head. “That’s correct, Doctor. Three more injections over the course of five days.”</p><p>Hojo lifted up the syringe in his hand, held it to the light, watched the mako green dance behind the glass.</p><p>“Make a notation in the file. I’d like the assistant administering the injections to add something.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <em>Insert dramatic music here. </em>
</p><p>Ah, sorry to leave you hanging with that ending! Don't worry - we shall be back sometime next week with more. As always, any comments or feedback or questions you have for me is much appreciated. </p><p>See you all soon!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Falling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>One of Sephiroth's worst fears becomes reality. Kunsel comes up with a risky plan. And Aerith makes a powerful decision.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, everyone! Once again, thank you for all the lovely feedback. Your comments and your kudos and your hits (nearly 9,500 the last time I checked. I'm going to assume that only around a hundred were from people that clicked and enjoyed and did not run away screaming from this fic, which is still more than I thought would even happen!) mean a lot to me, and I hope you are enjoying the story as much as I am having fun writing it. I had a rough week last week, so it was really nice to have this work to focus on. </p><p>A bit of housekeeping: as you may have noticed, the chapter count on this fic has gone way up! This is because I decided instead of posting all three parts in separate fics, they will all just be right here. I have plans for this universe even beyond the main story of this trilogy, and I did not want all the sequels and side stories to be confusing to navigate. So you can consider this the main hub, the main story. That being said, the tale is still narratively broken up into three pieces, and while I will be maintaining a weekly update schedule within each part, there will be brief breaks in between, so I can write ahead and be sure to update consistently for you all. Don't worry, I shall be telling you exactly when those will be.</p><p>Okay, enough of that. On with the show!</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Mentions of human experimentation, of corporate espionage, of some mild sexual content of possibly dubious consent (in the sense that one of the parties could be considered under the influence), some disturbing imagery. And Aerith being a badass!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The winter air felt like sharp crystals on his cheeks, like cold breath rushing over his skin. Around him, the world blurred into streaks of color – the black road, the assortment of vehicles, the grey skyscrapers, the blue sky, all melting into a wonderous rainbow that whipped past the edges of his eyes. It was impossibly fast, so much so that the only true things Cloud could sense were the purr of the motorbike between his legs, the smooth feel of the metal handle bars in his curled fingers. As he sped through the streets, dipped into the curves, the rush of everything pulsed through him, almost threatening to burst his veins. Once upon a time, the motion and the sensations would have been far too much, exacerbating the old ghosts of his motion sickness. But not today. Today, Cloud felt like <em>flying. </em></p><p>It was just a shame that his passenger disagreed.</p><p>“You wanna slow down!?” Zack shouted from behind him. Though his head was positioned directly behind Cloud’s own, the blond could barely hear Zack’s voice above the roar of the engine, let alone register the notes of distress. It was not the first protest Zack had made this afternoon, since the two of them had set out from the Shinra garage with one of the company’s newest motorbikes in tow. It was meant to be a celebratory thing – a speed-rush through the city on the world’s most exhilarating ride. And yet, somewhere along the way, Zack had changed his tune, a stark contrast to his earlier enthusiasm, to his excitement over “trying this bad boy out.”</p><p>To be fair, there was an obvious explanation for the shift. Cloud did not consider himself a bad driver. He drove carefully and well, and he had yet to have an accident in any Shinra vehicle (which was more than could be said for the Lieutenant). But the second his foot had hit the throttle and he had heard the hum of the beautiful titanium, the blond could not stop himself. The power beneath him was so seductive – and even more captivating was the recognition that he now had the reflexes, the speed, and the skill to meet it, like a matador to a conquered bull. And so, without a second thought, Cloud had pushed the acceleration and had never looked back.</p><p>It was also partially Roche’s fault. The damned Third had somehow gotten the lucky ticket to be the first to test the new bike out, and he had been bragging about the fact nonstop in the SOLDIER lounges. While annoying, Roche’s talk normally would not have prompted Cloud to any course of action. Instead, what had sparked the fire was the other man’s insistence on pushing his good fortune. After yet another ridiculous flirting attempt (and a bad pun about Cloud and <em>riding</em> that he would never deign to repeat), something in Cloud had snapped, and all he wanted to do in that moment was to wipe that smug look off of Roche’s face.</p><p>“A race,” Cloud had said. “If I win, I get your spot with the bike.”</p><p>There they were, standing in the Third Class lounge, two blond SOLDIERs staring each other down with glowing eyes. Their surrounding colleagues had immediately whooped and hollered, whipping out their PHSs, placing their bets. It would take less than half-an-hour for the story to be told and retold all throughout the floors of the Tower, for the fodder to be spun to false gold by the Shinra rumor mill. But for some reason, Cloud did not care about any of the noise. His headspace had narrowed, and his focus had centered on one thing only: to win.</p><p>Roche, to his credit, had not backed down from the opportunity he saw. With a callous grin, he responded, “And if I win, I get that date you've owed me since you kissed me on your birthday.”</p><p>It was meant to be a flirt, a tease, something to catch him off guard, to make him stumble. And there was a part of Cloud that had supposed that he should have been mortified, by the wolf whistles and the laughter, of the possibility that he would have to go on a date with the Third (who would no doubt try <em>something</em> untoward), when he was already in a (secret) committed relationship with someone else. But there was none of the usual questioning, none of the self-doubt, none of the hesitance. Instead, something that tasted a lot like certainty settled within him, hardening his backbone, stoking the flames. Cloud could not place why, or how, could not even begin to explain it. But he knew somehow that there was no way he could lose.</p><p>And he did not. The race was over quickly. Cloud flew through the designated route, the streets and the sights and the other cars diffusing into nothingness as he sped. While there were moments on the road that Roche gave a good fight, in the end, Cloud’s victory had been more than decisive. When Cloud had rounded the last turn back toward the finish line haphazardly drawn at the garage entrance, his opponent was too far behind to even be seen, and every one of the SOLDIERs waiting for the winner began shouting his name in excitement.</p><p>“You fucking killed it, Cloud! A legend in the making.”</p><p>Of course, not one to be left out of the fun, Zack was there, smile beaming brighter than starlight. Judging from the satisfaction of that smirk, the Lieutenant had made quite a bit of money on the race. But more so than the gil, Zack was also after the chance to join Cloud in testing out the brand new bike. In hindsight, that now seemed to be a miscalculation. Because with the way that the blond was now coursing over the road, twisting and turning between traffic, it was likely that Zack was going to take a much-needed moratorium on motorcycle driving, if he ever made it out of this ride alive.</p><p>“Watch out!”</p><p>Pointedly, the Lieutenant gave another yelp as they hit a sharp bend, nearly careening into the highway railing. Cloud banked the turn just in time, but even after the close call, he did not falter, not for a second. Instead, he kept pushing, revving up the acceleration once more.</p><p>Gaia, this felt <em>fantastic</em>. Cloud’s heart was pumping a thousand miles a minute, and every nerve and every sense had sharpened to a knife’s edge. He could feel the curves in the road before they were visible, and the bike itself responded to his touch readily, transforming into an extension of his body as easily controlled as his own limbs. It was similar to how Sephiroth described his work with his sword, back when they had shared daily training sessions. Though the outlet was different, Cloud experienced it all the same – the ease and grace that the General displayed with his famed Masamune – right here, with this spectacular vehicle.   </p><p>The thought of Sephiroth sent another jolt of adrenaline through Cloud. They had not spent much time together over the last month, with the Second having been sent on a mission near Fort Condor right before his next scheduled rounds of enhancements. When he had returned, Cloud had hoped to spend the recovery time following the mako injections lounging in Sephiroth’s apartment, partaking in his cooking, and sleeping in the man’s more comfortable bed. But the General was suddenly and inconveniently assigned to Junon for a three-week-long review of the military base’s operations. And while the occasional extended separation was not unusual for them, something about this particular distance left an unreachable itch under Cloud’s skin.</p><p>But that was not the only strange new feeling Cloud started to experience following his injections. As he led materia training sessions for the newest Thirds and helmed monster-clearing missions in the Midgar slums, the evidence began to build. Spells Cloud used to find difficult now flew out of his fingers with ease. Monsters that once took him four blows to slay now fell to his blade with one. Spars with fellow Seconds became increasingly lopsided in his favor, and even Zack, for all his brilliance with the Buster Sword, appeared slower to his mind’s eye. Unexpectedly, every motion he carried, every breath he took, everything he did, became just short of satisfying. No matter what Cloud tried or how hard he pushed – the race with Roche, the rush of the winding highways – there remained something missing. It was like a meal just a portion too small, and by the end of the three weeks, Cloud was absolutely and painfully <em>starving. </em></p><p>There was only one thing that seemed to promise to feed the hunger inside Cloud. And he was finally coming home tonight.</p><p>With that, Cloud whipped around, ignoring the honks of ongoing traffic and Zack’s shriek of surprise, to cut through the exit that would lead them back to the Tower. His passenger let out a little sigh of relief when he recognized the route, evidently hoping that his torture was close to its end. Still, Cloud’s mounting impatience made the blond speed through that much more quickly. It only took them mere minutes to cross through the entirety of Sector Eight and arrive back at the garage, and when they finally came to a stop, both Zack and Cloud were utterly breathless, albeit for different reasons.</p><p>“Dude,” said Zack, when the ability to formulate words returned to him. “What the hell was that?”</p><p>Cloud yanked his goggles off and ran a casual hand through blond spikes. Without so much as a look behind him, he hopped off the bike and began making his way toward the main entrance. “It handles pretty well, but the turns are not as smooth as Roche claimed, so be careful. Keys are in the ignition. Have fun.”</p><p>“What? Wait!”</p><p>But once again, Cloud did not hear Zack, his friend’s voice buried underneath the loud drumbeat of his pulse. He was not sure why or how, but he knew Sephiroth was in the building, could sense the man as strongly as his own breathing. He could even picture the General, sitting in his office, peering at his computer screen with tired green eyes, could envision the subtle scrunch of frustration on Sephiroth’s normally immaculate features, the tiny sigh of annoyance, the small crease in between the brows. Suddenly, more than anything, Cloud just wanted to kiss all that stress away. He wanted to wrap himself up in Sephiroth, burrow into him, see him, feel him, breathe him. And more than that, he wanted to make the man feel something else, something much more satisfying, something much better than exhaustion, something that Cloud felt certain would finally sate the craving that had haunted him since Sephiroth had left.  </p><p>The elevator to the SOLDIER floor could not move fast enough.</p><p>---</p><p>Sephiroth could not read Kunsel’s eyes from behind his helmet, and while that lack of insight normally would have bothered him, in this case, it was oddly encouraging. After all, those who remained inscrutable, invisible, they were the ones who could survive the labyrinth of mysteries housed in Shinra Tower. Kunsel certainly fit that bill: from his resume, it was clear that the young man purposefully toed a careful line. He was a smart operative with a solid mission record, but he declined opportunities that would have put him on the direct track for First Class. Even beyond that, Kunsel had an uncanny manner of simply knowing much of the goings on in the company, without any indication as who or what his sources could be. In fact, the only aspect that marred the Sergeant’s perfectly constructed obscurity was his friendship with the loud and boisterous and very much so not-invisible Lieutenant.  </p><p>Kunsel’s quiet reputation was part of the reason why Sephiroth called him that day, following his appointment with Hojo. But he knew the favor he was about to ask – and it was a favor, not an order, because Sephiroth knew all about giving orders that led men to horrible fates – was one that would push boundaries. He would be risking exposure, of himself, of his true nature, whatever that may be. Moreover, he would also be risking Kunsel’s safety, as the Science Department was a division that even the President avoided trifling with. And yet, Sephiroth called anyway, because of one reason. Because of Zack.</p><p>(Truly, the man must have some sort of special talent for such things).</p><p>Zack was friendly and came off as trusting, but Sephiroth knew his Lieutenant was much shrewder than he let on. Zack also understood people better than anyone Sephiroth had ever met. If Zack believed in Kunsel, if Zack trusted him, then Sephiroth could think of no better qualification, no better endorsement, for a task such as this.</p><p>As it turned out, the instinct was right. Kunsel had been more than receptive. When they had met more than a month ago, in the privacy of Sephiroth’s living room, the Sergeant had listened carefully, solemnly, to every word of Sephiroth’s hushed explanations. Sephiroth had started with Angeal and Genesis, the disease that sickened them, how the truth of their degradation lay somewhere in the bowels of the Science Department. How he had tried to fish something out but to no avail, and how he now worried about what all the secrets could mean for him. He had talked about his faded memories from the laboratories, of people, of names, that could perhaps prove useful in the hunt. He had shared the tiny droplets that he did manage to locate, the pieces of research left behind by Hollander, and the small wisps of insight Hojo had let slip.</p><p>(“He said that my mother had signed me away, and in doing so, hinted that she had possibly worked for Shinra.”</p><p>From the moment Sephiroth had begun speaking, Kunsel had hardly moved a muscle. But in that instance, there was a soft intake of air, a tiny breath, as if to stifle the disbelief, the question. <em>Who would do that to a child?</em>).</p><p>Finally, Sephiroth had closed, folding his hands and looking at Kunsel fixedly: “As you can now guess, the rumors of Shinra’s human experimentation are all true. But to what end – and what exactly those experiments involved – that is what still remains a mystery.”</p><p>“And that’s what you want me to look into?”</p><p>“Yes. I suspect that that will tell me…what I am.”</p><p>It was hard to tell how exactly Kunsel had reacted to those words (even after hours, he still kept his helmet), but there were not any of the usual notes of fear in the air. Instead, after a silent beat, the Second stood up and stated, “It will take some time. The Science Department is the most secret part of the company. But I’ll do what I can.”</p><p>He had said it simply, with the same easy determination that characterized Zack and Cloud, and all in spite of the danger they both knew could await him. Sephiroth wondered if that was Angeal’s influence lingering in the air, if perhaps his late friend’s infamous lectures managed to leave a legacy of honor and trust at SOLDIER after all. Regardless, he was grateful. And more than that, Sephiroth felt hopeful, that something true would finally be rendered real, and that that truth would hold the key to setting him free.</p><p>Which was why, when he returned from Junon and stepped into his office, and he saw the familiar helmeted head sitting on the couch, Sephiroth’s heart had nearly jumped out of his chest. In Kunsel’s hands was a small stack of papers, neatly tucked into a nondescript manila folder. But instead of optimism, instead of excitement, instead of satisfaction over the completion of a mission, the Second’s mouth was set in a tight and unreadable line.</p><p>“Sergeant,” Sephiroth said, leaving his bag by his office door. He crossed the threshold to his desk, turned and folded his arms. “I take it that you do not have good news?”</p><p>Kunsel stood up and dropped the folder on Sephiroth’s desk. As he began spreading out the papers, he remarked, “Depends on what you mean by good, sir.”</p><p>Intrigued, Sephiroth looked down. Right on top was Dr. Gast’s personnel file, with his picture – the same soft eyes, same mustache, though lacking many of the wrinkles that Sephiroth recalled he had come to possess before he disappeared – staring back up at him like an old ghost. Underneath that file were various project abstracts and research summaries, snapshots of a lifetime of dedicated work. As Sephiroth took the papers in his fingertips and started to flip through, he noticed, with a bit of disappointment, that much of the information remained redacted. But still, there were small pieces, like faint starlight in an otherwise empty dark night. Mentions of the man’s resume, his earlier research into the Lifestream, into mako energy, into the Planet. And further down, the markings of what was clearly an intentional shift in focus toward the Ancients, who they were, and what powers they possessed.   </p><p>Kunsel sat down, started his explanation. “Looks like you were right. They couldn’t completely get rid of all the work done by the last head of the Science Department. I found some of Dr. Gast’s personnel information and research summaries buried in old hard drives.”</p><p>Sephiroth turned another page. There was a photograph, of Gast and Ilfana, wrapped in thick winter jackets and clad in ski boots, standing in front of a snowy inn. They looked happy, cheerful, and they were smiling at each other in a manner that was now growing awfully familiar to Sephiroth. The sight made something clang in his chest.  </p><p>“He had some frequent collaborators. There was a man named Dr. Grimoire Valentine he worked with for a while on some of his earlier stuff. For the later projects, there was this woman, Ilfana, in that picture there. I think she was a lab assistant or another researcher, maybe?”</p><p>Not lab assistant. Not researcher. Nothing that simple. How could Sephiroth have missed it? In his selfishness, in his ignorance, in his youth, he had rationalized Gast and Ilfana’s first disappearance as something to do with him, as something his failings had caused. But now, with context of his own recent experiences, Sephiroth was beginning to realize that perhaps something else entirely had been at play.</p><p>And yet, as much as he wished he could dig further into what had prompted Gast to leave, that was not the main reason why Sephiroth had directed Kunsel to start with the former Shinra scientist. “Any mention of the last project Gast was working on before he left?” <em>The one involving me, </em>remained unsaid.</p><p>At that, Kunsel shook his head. He pointed to one particular piece of paper, in which nearly all the text had been blacked out. “That’s the bad news. It looks like whatever Gast was last working on, they went through the extra trouble making sure it stayed hidden. I even went through some additional personnel files of the Science Department around that time, to see if I could find some other avenues.”</p><p>“And?”</p><p>Kunsel frowned. “Nothing. There was no mention of a woman named Jenova, either, nor any records that named her. The only thing I did find was another doctor, a Lucrecia Crescent. But her files indicated that she had died. And everyone else, any technicians or assistants, they’re either all still working for Dr. Hojo or—”</p><p>“They are dead.”</p><p>That much was to be expected. The good doctor preferred keeping things close to the vest. Hojo often treated the people he worked with as mini-experiments themselves, only providing them enough information to perform their intended function and sparing them no other thought beyond that. And Shinra liked its secrets to stay secrets, either by continuing to pay them off or by locking them away in coffins. Simply trying to tug at the threads that Gast might have left behind was not going to be enough, not when Sephiroth wanted to unfurl the whole damned thing. Yes, there were some conclusions to be made, chiefly that the experiments that resulted in him, Angeal and Genesis evidently had something to do with the Ancients. More than that, they were top priority for Shinra, enough to for the company to be willing to bury and kill for. But all that merely confirmed existing suspicions; it did not reveal anything new, any other paths for exploration. It seemed that the full details of the mysterious work Gast and Hojo had collaborated on, that had driven the former and Ilfana away, that had molded Sephiroth’s existence, were going to keep themselves stubbornly and dangerously hidden, like the jagged core of an iceberg lurking beneath dark waters.  </p><p>“I’m sorry, sir,” Kunsel offered. There were the bitter notes of a genuine apology, for much more than a failed mission, in his tone.</p><p>Sephiroth exhaled, steadied himself, turned to face the young man. “It’s alright. I will try to think of something else.”</p><p>“Well, if that’s the case. I have an idea.”</p><p>The Second was standing now, his back ramrod straight, with a mixture of determination and nervousness. It was an odd enough combination to cause Sephiroth to lift his head to attention, regard the other man with curiosity. “What idea?”</p><p>“I believe I can find out more. But to do that. I am going to need some more time, and some help.”</p><p>“Help?” Sephiroth repeated. It was already difficult enough highlighting his mismatched truths to someone who was a relative stranger, even if he was Zack’s friend. Moreover, involving someone else added to the risk of Hojo discovering these roundabout inquiries. It was not an option Sephiroth wanted to contemplate.</p><p>Kunsel shifted from one foot to the next, clearly anticipating some resistance. But he pushed ahead anyway, clarified, “Well, sir, there’s only one department here that would have access to all the redacted files.”</p><p>That was not a direction Sephiroth was expecting. He narrowed his eyes. “You want to involve the Turks?”</p><p>“Just one, sir.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>Kunsel was quick with the response. “Cissnei is what she goes by.” And then, because he knew it would offer some much needed goodwill, he added, “She’s a friend of Zack’s.”</p><p>While that fact was indeed helpful, Sephiroth remained skeptical. Turning to Kunsel had been one thing – the man was a SOLDIER, and there was an implicit assumption that Sephiroth could make about trusting his own men. But the Turks were something else altogether, and while he understood that obtaining one’s assistance would make a world of difference, it could come at an extreme cost. After all, Shinra had made a habit of scorching the earth to hide their secrets, and the Turks were often the ones setting the fire.</p><p>Once again, Kunsel spoke up. “If Zack asks her, she will say yes,” he stated, unreservedly.</p><p>Sephiroth glanced at the Second, turning over the implicit suggestion buried in his statement. In truth, he had yet to tell Zack or Cloud about his investigation, partly out of fear of worrying them. His intention was to share once he had more concrete information available, once he felt like he could hold something solid in his grasp. But Sephiroth supposed he should be used to the idea that things hardly went according to plan, especially when it involved the Science Department.</p><p>He was about to respond, to say that he would bring Kunsel’s idea under advisement, when suddenly, the door to his office swung open and in walked Cloud Strife, smelling of fresh winter air and a hint of motor oil. Despite the young man’s flushed face, the blond had stridden in with such a purpose that Sephiroth could not stop the instinctual edge of caution from creeping into his muscles. Kunsel also appeared startled by the unexpected intrusion, because he immediately whipped his head around and stepped back from Sephiroth’s desk like a retreating animal.</p><p>“Cloud,” Sephiroth acknowledged. “What are you doing here?”</p><p>Cloud brushed aside the remark, his eyes locked solely on Sephiroth. He was halfway to the desk by the time he even noticed Kunsel, and the sight of the other man finally seemed to give him pause. “I didn’t realize you were busy,” Cloud said, eyes flickering to his fellow Second. The blond’s brow was raised, and the intimation of that impatient motion, of his silent demand, was then made more than clear.</p><p>Luckily, Kunsel did not need any mysterious information sources to immediately pick up on the hints. He replied, with a cracked strain in the voice – from surprise, amusement, or something else, Sephiroth could not tell – “Hey, Cloud. We were just wrapping up. I’ll – uh – just leave you to it. Thanks, sir.” In just a few stumbling seconds, the Sergeant quickly gathered the papers, tucked them under his arm, ducked his head, and shuffled out of the room.</p><p>There was a momentary pause, during which Cloud levelled Sephiroth with his best and brightest blue-eyed gaze. In response, the General let out a quiet sigh. “Considering who you did that in front of, you may have accidentally made our relationship public.”</p><p>If Cloud cared at all, he did not show it. The blond finished his approach, stood resolutely in front of Sephiroth. Their eyes met, sky blue to jade green, and in them, Sephiroth noted the now familiar affection and longing and determination, all things he’d come to treasure, all things that still left him a little breathless in disbelief. But there was also something else in the look, at the edges of the irises, something he had only seen in Cloud in the rare moments when they would push up against the boundaries of their self-control. Only this time, the steel seemed a little sharper, and possibly a lot more dangerous.</p><p>Sephiroth was about to say something, to question. But then Cloud, without a single word, coiled some of Sephiroth’s long strands of hair into his fingers and yanked the taller man down for a bruising and hungry kiss.</p><p>
  <em>Oh.</em>
</p><p>It was terribly easy to get lost in Cloud, to surrender to everything good Sephiroth felt when he was with him. In the instant that their lips met, he remembered the mornings in Junon, and how lonely the sunrises felt without having someone to share them with. Sephiroth knew that he had missed Cloud in a way he had not missed anybody before. And because he was still wrapping his mind around the idea that someone actually cared for him in return, he had forgotten that the sentiment perhaps went both ways.</p><p>Cloud’s tongue flicked demandingly against his lips, and there was nothing Sephiroth could do in that moment but capitulate. He opened his mouth, let the blond take what he wanted, tongue and teeth and lips. In return, Sephiroth wrapped his arms around that small waist to hold on. Gaia, had it really been almost a month since they had seen each other? How had he survived this long without such sweetness? There was a part of Sephiroth, the logical, rational part, that reminded him of the decision they had made to wait before fully consummating their relationship. But that voice was slowly getting drowned out with every breath Cloud insisted on stealing from him.</p><p>Finally, Cloud surrendered his lips, turned his attention instead to Sephiroth’s neck. Trembling fingers found their way down from his shoulders, to his chest, to the buckle that held together his leather jacket. It was not until the sound of that buckle clicking open and the feel of Cloud’s hands against his bare chest that the alarm bells began to resound.</p><p>This was…not normal. While they had engaged in a few kisses in the office when they felt certain that no one was looking, their more heated moments were reserved for the privacy of their apartments. Moreover, they had yet to re-open the discussion of sex. Each time they felt like they were reaching the edge, Sephiroth would summon every ounce of discipline he had to pause, to allow them to catch their breaths, to force himself to wait on Cloud. And each time, once Cloud came down from the rush and the heat, he would shake his head and request just a little more time.</p><p>Something was different now. It was as if the blond was just rushing full on, speeding through a racecourse without care or thought of the obstacles. Sephiroth tried pulling back for a moment, but Cloud’s hands had dipped lower to rub him over his pants, and the friction against his own traitorously growing bulge was starting to get even more dizzying. If he did not manage to stop this here, Sephiroth was going to end up taking Cloud on his desk, in his office, in the middle of the Tower that was owned by the company that had experimented on him since youth. That was not at all the scene or the ambiance that he had wanted to give their first time together.</p><p>That thought was enough to rescue Sephiroth from diving in headfirst. He reached for Cloud’s elbows and pushed the blond backward, earning him a tantalizing whimper.</p><p>“Cloud, slow down.”</p><p>“Mmhm,” murmured Cloud, clawing forward for more.</p><p>Sephiroth dodged the kiss but managed to end up with a lapful of the blond, whose hands were still wandering, torturously so. “I did not realize that you missed me that much,” he said, letting his fingers momentarily tangle in those soft spikes.</p><p>“I did,” Cloud replied. The blond pressed several kisses on Sephiroth’s chest, punctuating each with a tiny whisper. “I missed you. I need you.”</p><p>“Here? In my office?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Those blue eyes were half-lidded and hazed, and looking into them now, Sephiroth was finding it even more difficult to keep his composure. But doubt continued to nibble at the edges, raising questions, ringing concerns. He reached forward, pressed a hand to Cloud’s face, stroked his thumb against that warm cheek. He watched the radiance of the blue, dazzling, shifting with a combination of Cloud’s natural light and the unnatural mako, the kind of green-tinged afterglow that signified a recent exposure.</p><p>That was when the realization hit: Cloud had been scheduled for his next round of enhancements, right around the time Sephiroth had been abruptly summoned to Junon. And Sephiroth had worked long enough at Shinra to know that such things could not have been simple coincidence.</p><p>“Cloud, did something happen at your appointment?” Sephiroth asked.</p><p>The blond blinked, obviously jarred at the unexpected turn in the conversation. “No, nothing. I just received some injections.”</p><p>“There wasn’t anything else? Was Hojo there?”</p><p>“Hojo?” Cloud said, the syllables forming slowly over his lips. The blond’s brow furrowed. “No. He wasn’t. Each time, there was just a lab assistant. He gave me the injections, the same as before.”</p><p>“Have you been feeling anything strange?”</p><p>“No, not really, I—” A pause, a sharp inhalation, a haunting breath. Recognition flashed over Cloud’s features. “I thought it was just because of the enhancements.”</p><p>Sephiroth felt a pit sinking in his stomach now. This was what he had been afraid of – that Hojo would glean onto his attachment and use it against him, as he had everything else he ever cared for in his youth. He had no idea what happened, what Hojo’s true intent was, what exactly he had hoped to accomplish, what he had exposed Cloud to, but he knew that the man would be observing him for his reaction, like any scientist would a lab rat dropped in the middle of an experiment. Which meant that the option he would have liked to pursue – running down to the Science Department and burning it to nothingness – was out of the question. It would be giving Hojo exactly what he wanted, all the proof that the madman needed, and for Cloud’s sake, that was an outcome he needed to avoid.</p><p>Sephiroth folded his hands over Cloud’s now. “Listen. I need you to go home. Go to my apartment, stay there and rest.”</p><p>“I want to stay with you.”</p><p>“There are some things I need to take care of first.”</p><p>Cloud shook his head. “You don’t understand. It feels worse when I’m not with you.”</p><p>That was not something Sephiroth liked the sound of. “What feels worse?”</p><p>
  <em>“Everything.”</em>
</p><p>The quiet desperation in Cloud’s voice – it made Sephiroth want to scream, want to take his sword and stab Hojo right between the eyes. Somehow, holding himself back now took more energy and willpower than it did to refuse Cloud’s advances. But he needed to, because taking care of Cloud was his first priority, and it made everything else completely and utterly irrelevant.</p><p>Sephiroth leaned forward, kissed Cloud’s hands gently. “Stay here,” he said, motioning for Cloud to sit down at one of the chairs in front of his desk. Once the blond did so, Sephiroth straightened up and walked around to the other side of his desk to pick up his PHS. Whatever doubts he had before in his earlier discussion with Kunsel, whatever concerns he had about the man’s suggestion, they paled horribly to the horror he felt right now. He had not felt like this in a long time, not since being a young teen in Wutai, lost in the jungles and confused by the strategies Heidegger set out for him. Back then, he had gotten by with a mixture of luck and skill with his sword. But as he grew and rose up the ranks, Sephiroth he learned that the best battles were fought not by the blade, but with knowledge, and that knowing marked the difference between life and death.</p><p>Right now, he was woefully outmatched. And this was not a battle he could afford to lose.</p><p>He clicked on Kunsel’s name, typed the message, and sent it without another thought.</p><p>
  <em>We’ll go with your plan. I’ll talk to Zack. </em>
</p><p>---</p><p>It always astounded Aerith, how the flowers could speak so quietly and yet so powerfully – enough to drown out the reality of the living world around her, enough to suffocate her senses until there was nothing left but the voices. When she was young, she had not minded, because the flowers sang pleasant and soft harmonies of life and love that filled her steps with happiness and her actions with gentle purpose. They sounded like the soothing lullabies of her first memories, the ones her biological mother used to hum to her before she died, and it always lifted her days to think of her melodies living on, carried through the breeze of the garden outside her house.</p><p>But lately, the flowers were anything but soft and warm. Over the past few months, their hopeful songs slowly transformed into fearful wails. And in the last few weeks, they had become even more desperate, pleading. The voices would rise, shout, scream, screech. They were sirens blaring through dark streets, flares piercing into the sky. They were trying to warn, trying to signal, trying to tell her that the cycle that pulsed through the world had come off the track, that the things that had been and the things that would be had become disconnected. They were demanding a return to order, a restoration of balance. They were demanding a sacrifice.</p><p>
  <em>A meteor cracking through the atmosphere. The sun blotted out of the sky. A blade, silver and long, cutting through air and flesh. </em>
</p><p>The stories the Planet foretold were confusing, strokes and sketches of images left unclear and blurry. There was a part of Aerith that wondered if she would have understood had she been a true Cetra, like her mother. She was so young when she lost her, the last living link to the legacy that she was supposed to inherit, a line that had grown weak and diluted over the millennia. All Aerith could remember of the woman now was her beautiful brown hair, her gentle green eyes, how soft her fingers felt when they stroked her brow, how comforting her voice sounded when she sang the hymns of their ancestors. It hurt to think of her, of the details that Aerith’s memories lacked, of the empty space her mother’s death had left behind.</p><p>But Aerith also recognized that that was her human-half talking, to think of death as the end of known existence, the closing of story, however incomplete. Zack thought of death that way. She could feel it in the way he sobbed against her after the death of his mentor, in the way her chest vibrated with the shaking of his shoulders. She could understand his sense of the finality and how it compounded the pain of his loss. But Aerith had the advantage of knowing something else, about how death merely represented a beginning, a return to the cycle that powered all life on Gaia. A promising and beautiful reunion.</p><p>She had once thought of telling Zack this, explaining that Angeal had not ended, but instead had begun anew. But then, Aerith recalled how her adoptive mother’s eyes went wide with disbelief, with sorrow, with rage, when she had told her about her husband’s passing. It took a long time afterwards for Elmyra to see through all that, to see <em>her</em> again, and back then, Aerith was just a small child, with no real comprehension of the anguish that the loss of true love could inflict.</p><p>Now, she knew. She knew what that love felt like, and to imagine that distrust marring Zack’s handsome face – she was not ready. For all the ancient wisdom supposedly coursing through her veins, Aerith was still just shy of seventeen, and the way that Zack looked at her, as a girl from the slums with more than her fair share of spunk and cleverness and wit – well, that was the way she wanted to be.</p><p>But it was not who she truly was. And Zack, lively and wonderous, was not meant to be her hero, not if the dark and sad tales the flowers told her were to be believed.</p><p>
  <em>A body, cold and empty, left on the edge of a cliff overlooking a dying city. Her body, cold and empty, bleeding on white altar in a city that was already dead.  </em>
</p><p>(They were lambs for destiny’s slaughter.)</p><p>There was a part of Aerith that wanted to cry the moment the impressions seeped through her mind. They felt like memories, felt like her, felt so familiar, an uncannily perfect alignment of sights and smells and touches and sounds and tastes. She recognized it for what it was: a message, a coalescence of Cetran knowledge that had been building and brewing in the Lifestream for generations. This was is the fate that the Planet was asking of her, the path it had laid out to ensure its continued existence. And as the last Cetra standing, Aerith was the only one left to walk it.</p><p>Except, she wasn’t just a Cetra. She was also human. And humans loved to exist under this notion <em>(delusion)</em> that their fates were in their own hands.</p><p>Crouched next to the flowerbed of her church, in a pool of light filtering from the cracks of the ceiling, Aerith reached for a petal. She stroked the softness once or twice, like a mother would caress the skin of a newborn child. Then, quietly, she closed her eyes, and whispered the same prayer that she had been offering since the cries of the Planet had begun those months ago.</p><p>
  <em>There must be another way. If you let me, I can find it.</em>
</p><p>In the next breath of the light wind, she heard the same response: <em>You must not defy destiny. It could be the end.</em></p><p>It was the line she had been fed each time, and with every repetition, it cut within her a deeper wound. Aerith could not fathom it, how a Planet that could sustain and create life could be so callous about its sacrifice. Because that was what Zack was to her – <em>life</em>. He was also hope and resilience in human form, a hum of effervescent energy that left her breathless and happy and free, all at once. When he had crashed through her roof, when she saw his body sprawled amongst her flower petals, his pure energy had made her wonder if an angel had fallen from the sky. But Zack was no angel. He was the most human person Aerith had ever met. He felt, loved, cared, dreamed, fought, suffered, lost, cried. He was everything wonderful about being human, an embodiment of all the potential that people could be.</p><p>She wanted to fight for that potential.   </p><p>
  <em>You must not change his fate. You must not change your fate. </em>
</p><p>“Shut up,” Aerith muttered. She grabbed a fistful of the flower’s petals and forcefully pulled the bud right off the stem. “Just please shut up.”</p><p>“Woah, remind me not to piss you off, babe.”</p><p>She could not help the startled gasp that escaped her then. Behind her, Zack was leaning against one of the pews, his delightful smile gracing his lips. “Hey,” he greeted, crossing the threshold to sit beside her.</p><p>Aerith reached for his hand. “Hi, Zack.”</p><p>They remained like that for a few moments, fingers and gazes tangling. She leaned into him, resting her head in the crook of his strong shoulder. Her fingers curled around his tighter, and Zack turned slightly to press gentle kisses on her forehead, on her cheek, on her lips. Each touch felt like a quiet promise – <em>you can trust me, you can love me, I’ll be here, I’ll understand </em>– and each moment Aerith kept her lips shut felt like a piercing betrayal, of both him and her own heart. She wanted to believe him, knew that he meant it. She wanted so badly for it to be true.</p><p>“Zack,” Aerith said, pulling back from his touch.</p><p>For just a fleeting second, his lips chased after, but Zack caught himself quickly. However, neither his hand nor his gaze left hers, a lovely warmth spreading from his fingers, his expression calm and comforting and assessing and kind.</p><p>“What is it?” Zack asked, peering at her with his odd mixture of curiosity and concern.</p><p>It was nearly too much. Looking into those eyes was almost more than she could bear. Because Aerith knew she owed Zack more than the tiny hints of her past, of her heritage, of her abilities. She owed him the whole truth. But she feared more than the extremely unlikely scenario of his rejection. She feared the position the truth would put him in, worried that instead of preventing his fall, it would be the sure cause of it.   </p><p>In response to the silence, Zack sat back on his heels and sighed. It was not his usual sound of playful exasperation, of willing patience; instead, it was one of frustration. “You and Cloud, both of you. I have no idea what is going on. The world has truly gone upside-down if the only person talking to me honestly, of all people, is Sephiroth.”</p><p><em>Calamity. Harbinger. Apocalypse. Death. </em>It was the second time she heard this cry, the first being just a few weeks ago with Cloud and Zack above plate. The suddenness of it, the sharpness of the flowers’ reaction to that name – it shocked her so much that Aerith had almost let the façade slip (and she was pretty sure that Cloud had noticed). But the bitter song also settled within her an understanding that the meteor, the dark sky, the silver sword – all the dreadful images centered around this one man, and that as a result, the Planet feared him terribly.</p><p>And yet that too confounded Aerith. She knew who Sephiroth was – everyone on Gaia did – knew the stories of his unparalleled strength and prowess. But she also knew that he was Zack’s friend, who had stepped up to help him process his grief, who forced her boyfriend to take days off when he noticed him overtaxing himself. She knew from looking at Cloud, so much more confident and certain in his worth and so different from the lost soul that had helped her fix her wagon, that Sephiroth cared well enough to help someone grow and blossom. And more importantly, she remembered vague images of silver hair and sad green eyes that mirrored her own, flashing against the white-walls of the Midgar laboratories. This man, who was the only one on the Planet that could probably understand the sheer <em>otherness</em> she felt – this was the man Gaia feared?</p><p>
  <em>He will be the end of us, of you.</em>
</p><p>For a moment, Aerith sensed the whisper of steel against her stomach, and the swiftness of the sensation nearly made her gasp aloud in pain. She caught herself quickly, digging her fingers into the dirt for purchase.</p><p>But still, her boyfriend caught on.</p><p>“You’re starting to worry me now, Aerith. You’ve been acting so strange. Please. Tell me what's going on.”</p><p>She wanted to cry but knew she could not. She wanted to fall into Zack’s arms but knew that doing so would break the dam completely. There Aerith was, the two halves, the human and the Cetra, the girl who wanted to fall in love and live her life believing in the boundless chaos of the free future, and the relic of a civilization long deceased, that could not escape its fate. She thought about her mother, thought about what she would do if she were in this position. Would she give into her heart or listen to the wisdom of those gone before her?</p><p>It was then that Aerith realized the truth: her mother had already made that choice, and because of it, she was here, alive, breathing, and free.</p><p>Aerith closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and sat upright. “The flowers,” she said, trying to steady her voice.</p><p>Zack arched a brow, clearly confused. But he went along anyway. “What about them? Did they say something?”</p><p>“Yes. But you never asked why I could hear them in the first place.”</p><p>The voices swelled, like a tsunami, towering above and threatening to crash down. <em>You must not defy your destiny, our destiny. </em></p><p>Zack let out a small breath. This time, it was one of relief. “Okay. Why can you hear them?”</p><p>
  <em>A cracked and rusted sword, on a lonely cliff. A grave-marker. </em>
</p><p>If she could avert that fate, somehow, someway, however delusional, however human that hope…</p><p>Aerith turned to face him now, green eyes hard with determination.</p><p>
  <em>You cannot change his fate.</em>
</p><p>She pushed down on the voices, molding them like soil, burying them deep. “Have you ever heard of the Cetra?” she asked.</p><p>
  <em>Watch me. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My girl Aerith making some moves. And Kunsel, too! </p><p>Hope you enjoyed! As always, you can let me know what you think here, or even on twitter @crescentstrife. </p><p>See you next week - during which Seph and Cloud deal with the aftermath, and the gang gets a little closer to the truth.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Fissure</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cloud manages to hurt Sephiroth in more ways than one. Cissnei, Kunsel, and Aerith attempt to put together more pieces of the puzzle. And Zack is there trying to keep everyone together.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, everyone. I have absolutely no words. Your feedback and your encouragement from the last chapter has blow me away. Truly, from the bottom of my heart, from every fiber of my being, thank you! I’m posting this chapter a bit early to celebrate, but also because this week of work is gonna be crazy and I didn’t want to accidentally miss an update.</p><p>I also have good news to report: this past weekend, I just finished the draft of Part One! That's a whole nineteen chapters of this fic written. I intend to keep going with the weekly update schedule until Chapter 19, after which there will be a brief break so I can get ahead of Part Two and ensure those chapters get posted weekly, too. You all have been giving me plenty of motivation, so I'm super excited to keep carrying on. </p><p>Ok, on with the show. I hope you also enjoy this chapter. I apologize in advance for the angst. </p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Deeper discussions of human experimentation and the trauma that comes from such an experience. Signs of depression.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a core truth of Sephiroth’s life that he felt most natural, most comfortable, with a sword at hand. The moment he touched the hilt of a blade, a frission of familiarity would surge through him, as if the weapon were the missing line in a text, the absent piece of his soul. It made a perfect and terrible sense. After all, Sephiroth was bred for combat, for war, for death, and for the first few years of his life, those deadly spaces had comprised the entirety of his known universe. It was not until Genesis, until Angeal, that he realized that there were other worlds out there. And it was not until Zack, until Cloud, that Sephiroth began to believe that perhaps there was a place for something like him, a tiny cavern, a small corner, in those wonderous, new worlds.</p><p>But whether it was habit, discipline, or something else, there would always be that thrill surging through Sephiroth whenever the siren song of battle arose. It would seep into his skin, light the fire in his blood, drum loud and powerful and incessant between his ears. Even now, as he moved across the training room, the wooden sword in his grasp directing the dance like a conductor’s baton, a pleasant tightness twisted in his stomach. But this particular moment escalated beyond the usual notes of excitement and passion. Instead, it had become something that Sephiroth had not experienced since that fateful afternoon in the Junon simulation (after which, everything had crumbled). It was the indescribable delight that came with fully engrossing oneself in the fight, the pure thrill of a challenge that commanded singular focus. Between Angeal’s death and Genesis’ betrayal, Sephiroth had thought that he would never be truly alive like this, not ever, not again.</p><p>Then, of course, Cloud Strife crashed into his life.</p><p>The blond feinted left, swung right, his steps and his strikes coming at Sephiroth in a swift and relentless staccato. It was fast enough that the silver-haired man could no longer rely on muscle memory and instinct: he had to focus, had to read, had to predict, had to interpret. The uptick in Cloud’s speed, particularly in comparison to the blond’s capabilities when he first joined SOLDIER, was to be commended. As one of the men who taught him, Sephiroth should have been proud, should have been overjoyed, at how remarkably the young man had progressed.</p><p>And yet, they both knew that this was not something to be celebrated.</p><p>Sephiroth stepped quickly and moved to parry Cloud’s next blow. The smaller man responded by ducking beneath Sephiroth’s arm, spinning into his body and jamming the General’s ribs with the handle of his training sword. With the contact, Sephiroth stumbled backwards, allowing the momentum of the blow to increase the space between them. The maneuver was impressive, but it showed Cloud’s inexperience, because for the briefest of moments, it left the blond’s back open to him. Still, it was only because Sephiroth himself also possessed an agility far beyond the average SOLDIER that he was able to take advantage. Quickly, he hooked his longer legs between Cloud’s and pushed him onto the mat with deft and sharp jab to his chest.</p><p>“Ah! Ow!”</p><p>Another swift roll positioned Sephiroth above Cloud, pinning those arms down against the training room mat. As expected, the blond’s blue eyes blazed with his characteristic defiance, and Sephiroth could feel him push against the hold instinctually. The struggle lasted for a few seconds longer, until finally, the realization of the loss settled, and Cloud let out a huff in surrender.  </p><p>“Okay, I get it.”</p><p>Sephiroth shifted off of Cloud, and sat, his arms coming to rest on his knees. “You hit me,” he said, matter-of-factly, letting his hand briefly ghost over his abdomen. It was not a hard blow, not in the slightest, and there would be no bruise. But his skin still stung, as if carrying the echoes of the moment of impact. It was difficult to tell, however, whether the ache that remained was physical or mental.</p><p>Cloud propped himself up on his elbows. His expression was dark. “I could read you. It was like I knew what you were thinking, where you were going.”</p><p>“Perhaps you’ve simply gotten used to sparring with me.”</p><p>“That is not it, and you know it.”</p><p>Sephiroth watched Cloud tear his eyes away, stare at the floor, at the ceiling, at anything other than him. It had been like this for some days now, a chasm growing and gnawing ever since that conversation in Sephiroth’s office. That night, they had retreated to his apartment, and Sephiroth sat on his couch and listened as Cloud repeated over and over what he saw at his recent medical appointments, as well as the symptoms he felt in the weeks following. Nothing he said brought Sephiroth any comfort. While it was common to experience an increase in abilities following mako injections, the jump in agility, mana, strength was far too great to be attributable to normal SOLDIER procedures. And yet, somehow, that fact had not been their primary concern.   </p><p>Cloud described it like a craving, an insatiable need, a restless itch. All his body wanted to do was curl into Sephiroth, to the point that physical distance bordered on painful. And when they were close, it was as if all Cloud could feel was Sephiroth, in his flesh, in his head, like a memory forever ingrained and forever burned into his being. He could sense Sephiroth’s desires even more keenly than his own, and his body hummed with the need to fulfill them, like a marionette on twisted strings. It could have sounded romantic – maybe in some other life, it was. But in that moment, Sephiroth could not bring himself to find anything lovely about the terror that marred the normally bright and open beauty of Cloud’s face. He could not find it in himself to feel anything at all, other than a crushing guilt and a simmering anger.</p><p>It only worsened from there. The following morning, they had sat on the floor of the living room, stared at each other from across the black coffee table, and tested the boundaries of this new chain that now bound them together. It did not take long, and it was almost instinctual. That had been the first issue. The second was this: when Sephiroth closed his eyes, followed the string, he could see it all. The waves of the thoughts in the blond’s head, the yearnings of his heart, the very electrical pulses that controlled his actions and his muscles, laid out in front of him like a clear blueprint. It would be such as simple thing to take hold of all the inner machinery that made Cloud who he was, to bend that body and mind to his will, to take that steel he admired and make it his own. A flick of his wrist, a bow of his head, a single word, a tug on that tether. As easily as breathing. That was all.</p><p>(From the depths of Cloud’s mind, he had pulled back with a shuddering breath, like rising from warm waters into cold air. “A thread of fate,” Sephiroth had whispered, though where the words came from, he did not know.</p><p>In front of him, Cloud had his knees pressed to his chest. He looked at Sephiroth with eyes that were now dim and hollow and just a little too green. The only thing he had said in reply – the only thing he had said for the rest of the day – was, “A hangman’s noose.”)</p><p>After that horrifying discovery, it became harder and harder for Sephiroth to resist marching into the laboratories and tearing Hojo’s throat out with his bare hands. The only thing that stopped him was the uncertainty. They knew absolutely nothing of what the scientist had done to Cloud, what he planned or intended, whether it was permanent or reversable, or (<em>Genesis’ rotting flesh, Angeal’s broken body</em>) worse. But all their attempts at clarity had come up short. Kunsel and Zack and the Turk they had turned to for assistance had a plan in the works, but so far, there was nothing new to report. And as impatient as he was for answers, Sephiroth understood the need for caution. There were very few who crossed paths with the Science Department and managed to walk away unscathed: the names Gast Faramis and Lucrecia Crescent were just two in a long established pattern. No further names needed to be added to that list.    </p><p>In the meantime, he kept his focus on Cloud, on what he could do to help the blond cope with this new change in the paradigm. Sephiroth understood what it felt like to wake up suddenly a stranger to your body and to your mind, to feel afraid of everything you were and everything you could become. In those moments, all he had sought was a sense of security, of safety, of hope – the tiny specks of which he had once found in Gast, in Ilfana, in Angeal, in Genesis. So, Sephiroth tried. He told Cloud that he would do everything in his power to protect him, that this would never happen again, that he would be safe. He offered everything he could think of: time off, an upgraded security system, space in his apartment. He attempted to say the right things, in the right tone, do the right things, in the right order. There was nothing Sephiroth wanted more than to reach out, to provide consolation and strength and support, the way that Cloud had unfailingly done so for him, time and time again.</p><p>But Cloud did not reciprocate. Instead, he began to build barriers, walls, distance, space, as if in a desperate attempt to maintain his sense of self. It was a logical response, and Sephiroth knew that. And yet, the situation drove an immediate wedge in their burgeoning relationship. Things that had once felt natural and right were now muddled and awkward and strange. Every action taken was now rooted in self-preservation, out of avoidance of pain. Cloud would sit by his side on the couch, share breakfasts and dinners, fall asleep in the same bed, but there was a blankness to his motions and an emptiness to his expression, like his body was simply following the mechanics programmed into its cells. Though the blond kept physically close, Sephiroth knew it was not out of any true desire to be near him, be with him. He knew, because he had never felt so far away from Cloud since the day he had met him.</p><p>In the intervening days, they hardly spoke, except when Cloud provided occasional updates on how he was feeling. This morning, in what was perhaps the only hint of good news, Cloud had reported that the symptoms seemed lighter, the sense of Sephiroth in his mind shrinking from deafening to a light, but ever-present buzz. It was then that the silver-haired man had suggested sparring again, partly to help Cloud adjust to his new capabilities, but also in a bid to ground the blond in a familiar activity. But he should have known better. All the spars revealed were the glaring differences between who Cloud was before and who he was now. Every modicum of growth, every new maneuver executed with precision and ease, felt like poison, like a betrayal. Suddenly, the very thing that had once drawn them together had transformed into another weapon now driving them apart.</p><p>“Cloud,” Sephiroth began. He did not reach forward, for he knew the other man would pull away. “We can figure this out.”</p><p>The blond remained quiet. After a pause, he stood up, grasped his practice sword, and moved to place it at the racks to the right of the training mats. Sephiroth knew Cloud well enough to see, from the slide of his shoulders, the tuck of his chin, that he was staying silent to avoid saying anything hurtful or harmful or out of turn. It would be in his best interest, in Cloud’s, to retreat. But the days of this, this distance, this separation, this pressure, it had cracked Sephiroth wide open. And like a river pushing through the fissures of a dam, he knew it was only a matter of time before it all would break, and he would drown.</p><p>Because this was what he feared the most – that in the end, it would be too much and Cloud would leave, just like everyone else.</p><p>Sephiroth stood up, and despite his better judgment, walked to Cloud, and grabbed the smaller man’s arm. Cloud let out a startled breath and turned to face him. His blue eyes were glowing so bright, so clear, so strong, even under the artificial lights of the training room. There was no mistaking the fear in them now.</p><p>“Talk to me,” Sephiroth asked.</p><p>Cloud shook his head. “I can’t.”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I understand that you are afraid, but—”</p><p>“You don’t understand anything.”</p><p>Sephiroth paused, released the arm, let the warmth slip from his fingers. The words and the falling away of the touch felt like ice in his veins. “I might, if you tell me,” he said.</p><p>“I can’t. You won’t like what I have to say.”</p><p>“Say it anyway.”</p><p>Cloud cast his eyes downward. He did not dare look at the General, not now, not with the truth hanging between them like a guillotine waiting to be released.</p><p>“You couldn’t figure it out before. You didn’t figure it out before. With Genesis, with Angeal.”</p><p>And there it was, the finishing blow, enough to break the dam. Sephiroth could feel his heart starting to spill out all its contents, filling his chest to the point of suffocation, and even then, it did not stop. Not until there was nothing left, but a single sentiment, utterly contrite and terrifyingly meaningless. But because it was all Sephiroth had left to offer, he gave it, anyway.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he said.  </p><p>They stayed that way for a few more moments, nothing between them but the humming of the air system, the electric lights. Neither dared move, dared speak, dared look at each other. The silence stretched between them, darkening the atmosphere, blanketing the wound that they had now created. Finally, after seconds that felt like hours, Cloud moved toward the exit, and for all his strength, Sephiroth found that he could not stop him.</p><p>Something else did instead.</p><p>Just as the blond was about to leave, the door slid open and in walked Zack Fair, his eyes wild and excited.</p><p>“There you two are! We gotta talk, quick. Something – woah, wait.” The Lieutenant stopped, mid-step, mid-sentence, holding his hands up in confusion. Then, he added, in a rather weak tone, “There’s some mighty weird energy here.”</p><p>Cloud glanced up at his friend and sighed. “What do you want, Zack?”</p><p>Again, the dark-haired man paused, his expression turning thoughtful, assessing. All three recognized that Zack had more than enough social understanding to surmise that a quarrel had taken place. For a moment, Sephiroth wondered if he would interfere, as he had shown himself willing to before. But it appeared the man had other priorities, because Zack merely shook his head and folded his arms.</p><p>“Listen, I have no idea what’s going on with you two, but I need you both to come with me. Aerith wants to talk.”</p><p>“Aerith?” asked Cloud. “Does she need our help?”</p><p>Instead of answering directly, Zack’s eyes flickered to Sephiroth. There was a tempered caution in that glance, one that was not wholly unfamiliar. “Not quite,” the Lieutenant continued, keeping his gaze steady and level. “More that I think she can help you<em>.</em> Apparently, you two have met before. Or, more accurately, you’ve met her mother.”</p><p>That statement was enough of a surprise to wash away the earlier tension, particularly once the realization hit Sephiroth. For a few seconds, he trudged through his broken childhood memories, searched the catalogue of all women he had interacted with in his youth, narrowed down the possibilities. But there was only one person that made sense, and that fact suddenly opened a potential door to the truth that he had not anticipated.</p><p>“Ilfana,” he said, the name escaping his lips like a ghost.</p><p>The look that Zack gave him now was no longer one of caution, but of sadness.</p><p>“C’mon,” the other man motioned, turning back toward the door. “Aerith’s waiting for us.”</p><p>Sephiroth stepped forward to follow, but Cloud did not. The blond remained rooted, his fist closing tightly, creaking the leather of his glove. “I can’t,” he said, voice cracking. “I can’t.”</p><p>The concern was back, darkening Zack’s eyes. “Cloud, what’s wrong?”</p><p>“I need to go. I need to—” Cloud’s breaths came out in shorter and shorter bursts, and there was water building at the corner of his eyes. His hands flew up to the sides of his head, fingers digging pressure into the soft yellow locks, as if trying to will the mind to stay, as if attempting to push the fear and the pain down and down and down.</p><p>“Cloud,” Sephiroth said, moving toward him. “Please.”</p><p>His glove brushed that arm once more, only this time, the touch was like fire. It seared through Sephiroth, up his limb, into his brain, flashing images of darkness, of drowning, of death. The instinct that he had located before, that he promised Cloud he would lock away, now thrashed in its cage, and his body screamed out to control, to consume, to possess, to own. Everything pulsed with such energy that it took nearly all Sephiroth had to remain upright. Quickly, he pulled away, let out a startled gasp, and stumbled backward on shaking legs.  </p><p>The tears were now freely flowing, and they made the blond’s blue eyes glow even more vividly, a cursed, beautiful sight. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this,” Cloud breathed, begged, pleaded. There was something else there, too, unsaid, unspoken, but undeniably present between the spaces of his words.</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry, too.</em>
</p><p>And that was it. Cloud turned and ran down the hall, vanishing in a fast tapping of boots, in a blur of blond and purple. In his rush, he left behind Zack, with an utterly confused expression, and Sephiroth, with a silently breaking heart.</p><p>---</p><p>It had to be the set-up of some joke: a florist, a Turk and a SOLDIER, sipping tea and sitting in a just-shy-of-messy living room (Aerith made a mental note to remind Zack that dirty clothes belonged in a hamper and not on the floor). And yet, that was precisely the scene that was playing out in Zack’s apartment this afternoon, although judging by the stern faces of all parties involved, this was no laughing matter. The SOLDIER, Kunsel, whom Aerith had met on one or two occasions with Zack before, was sitting at her left, his eyes shielded by that omnipresent helmet. When she had opened the door for him, he had greeted her with a lilt of surprise in his voice. But the woman he came with, Cissnei, had an altogether different reaction – something akin to understanding, recognition, and even, a bit of relief.</p><p>Cissnei was pacing on the rug in front of the television, a folder with a few papers tucked in the crook of her arm. She looked as impeccable as ever, with her perfectly curled hair and her crisply ironed suit. Aerith had never ever seen a Turk painting anything less than an immaculate picture, a sharp contrast to the dirt she knew they often had to dig through. Though she had no outward qualms with the Turks and no issues toward Cissnei in particular (they had even spoken pleasantly a few times, whenever the redhead happened to be assigned to her), Cissnei’s presence made Aerith nervous. If she was searching for a sign that this whole thing was a dangerous game, a Turk was undoubtedly a clear beacon.  </p><p>But the redhead seemed to expect that concern. When she had come through the door, Cissnei had reached forward, placed a gentle hand on Aerith’s arm and smiled, as if to say, <em>you can trust me.</em> And there was something about the look that she gave that made Aerith want to. That, and the fact that Kunsel appeared unbothered by her presence, the fact that Zack numbered Cissnei as one of his friends – for now, it was enough. She had to trust someone. Might as well be a Turk.</p><p>“They’re on their way?” Kunsel asked again, leaning back into the cushions.</p><p>Aerith looked down at her PHS, open on her lap. On the screen was a message from Zack: <em>Change of plans. Will explain later.</em> A change of plans indeed, considering the two unexpected guests she had let into her boyfriend’s apartment. For a moment, Aerith wondered if she should have asked them to come back later. But even before she had opened the door, she could sense their anxiety and their urgency, because it was the same as that she carried in herself. She knew then there was no other option.  </p><p>“Yes. But I think something may be wrong.”</p><p>At that, Cissnei stopped pacing and lifted her head. “Should we perhaps table this discussion, then?”</p><p>“No,” Aerith declared. “Let’s get all our cards on the table.”</p><p>There it was again, the smile of surprise from Kunsel, the look of comprehension from Cissnei. After a momentary pause, the redhead offered an approving smirk and replied, “Remind me never to underestimate you, Miss Gainsborough.”</p><p>“It’s Aerith, Miss Turk.”</p><p>At that, Kunsel let out a quick bark of laughter. “Yep. I can see why Zack needs you to keep him on his toes.”</p><p>“Hey, I heard that, you asshole!”</p><p>The words were muffled behind the now opening door, but all three individuals in the room recognized the source of that cheery, playful protest. Zack was grinning as he walked inside, his boots scuffing against the hardwood of the entryway. As he made his way into the living room and sat down on the couch to Aerith’s right, he appeared to be full of energy, nervous, scared and excited, all the same. On any other circumstance, Aerith would have laughed, would have been transfixed at the sight of her boyfriend and his charming, white-toothed grin. But instead, her gaze immediately locked onto the man who had followed Zack into the space, on his starlight silver hair, and on his solemn and familiar jade eyes.</p><p>At first sight, all Aerith could see was the boy in her blurry memories, tall, thin, and made even paler by the soft green uniform worn by all the other laboratory specimens. Back then, he seemed to always be bandaged – an arm, a leg, a finger, a cheek. He also always smelled of blood. In a way, seeing Sephiroth now, tall, pale, somber, was like looking at an echo of that same boy. But there was also something else in the man now, something that had been keenly missing before. It only took Aerith a second to recognize what it was.</p><p><em>Warmth.</em> The kind that came from knowing what it was like to be cared for or loved, the kind the came from caring and loving in return. It was tiny, almost helpless, but more importantly, like the remaining sparks from an ember besieged by the storm, it was <em>there</em>, clutching, clinging, breathing.</p><p>Aerith stood up. “Hello, Sephiroth,” she stated. Across his face, there were flashes of recognition, of regret, and of pain. They told stories about her mother, stories that she wanted so desperately to hear. But now was not the time. She pushed past and asked, “How have you been?”</p><p>The directness of her question appeared to startle all parties in the room. But when the flicker of astonishment faded, Sephiroth merely inclined his head in response. He was still standing close to the entrance, like an animal maintaining an escape route in dangerous territory. Everything in his body spoke of tension, from his folded arms to his furrowed brow, and something traitorous in the back of Aerith’s mind reminded her of the fact that this man was a weapon, a knife sharpened to cut at the slightest touch. But she quickly squashed the thought, crushed the fear. Instead, she waited and hoped.</p><p>And she was right. Suddenly, Sephiroth softened and with a voice gentler than Aerith was expecting, he said, “Miss Gainsborough, I apologize. I am afraid that I have not been doing very well.”</p><p>If there had been a doubt in Aerith’s mind about her decision, looking into those green eyes had erased it completely. Here he was, standing before her, vulnerable and real – confirmation of everything she had suspected, and that Zack had told her. The Planet was wrong. The Planet had to be wrong. There had to be another way, one that could save her, save him, save Zack. And though Aerith was not a genetically enhanced super-human, though there was little that she could provide, she had a kind smile and a tiny sliver of the truth. For the boy from the laboratories who had grown beyond all odds into this man, she was willing to give both.</p><p>“Okay,” she said, her lips gently turning. “Let’s see if we can help.”</p><p>Aerith went first, repeated the story that she had told Zack a few days ago (her side, her mother’s side, and not the version that Cissnei would have read in any of her briefings). How her first memories were of white walls and green hospital gowns, how her mother would wrap gauze around her injection marks and surgical scars. How they had escaped, how her mother had carried her out of the Tower and kept running and running and running, despite the blood that was pouring out of her gunshot wounds. How she had grown up listening to the songs the flowers used to sing to her, pleasant melodies about love and hope and life. How something had changed, and the notes became bitter and dark. How instead, the petals now warned and screamed and cried like a steady, ceaseless drumbeat.  </p><p>“Before she died, my biological mother explained that we were the last of the Cetra, what most people now call the Ancients. We can hear the voice of the Planet, because we’re supposed to be its original stewards. But now, they are gone. Everyone else is gone. And I…”</p><p>Aerith stopped, folded her hands on her lap, let herself steady her breathing. Immediately, Zack was there, his body a constant pressure at her side. His hand was on her back, massaging gently, and the touch was warm and comfortable and strong.  </p><p>“You did great, babe,” he whispered, smiling at her. Then, he glanced up at Sephiroth, at Cissnei, at Kunsel. “But you see? It’s connected. Shinra wanted them because they were the last of the Ancients, and all the work that you guys dug up before on the Science Department seemed to focus on the Ancients, right?”</p><p>Kunsel nodded. “That’s what the evidence pointed toward. Before he disappeared, nearly all of Dr. Gast’s work was related to the Ancients. And, well – Cissnei, I think I’ll let you take it from here.”</p><p>The Turk moved, dropped her file onto the coffee table in front of Sephiroth, let the man scan through papers in his eerily quick manner. “This is what I managed to gather with my level of security clearance and without arousing suspicion. It’s not much.”</p><p>Sephiroth lifted a hand, motioning for a pause. It was only a brief one – Aerith could see how fast his eyes moved through each line of text, how quickly they tabulated each image, like a computer processing in real time. “These are similar to the files we found in Hollander’s secret laboratories, the ones documenting the procedures and protocol performed on Project G,” he summarized, though his gaze remained fixed on the papers. “Except this one is…”</p><p>“Project S,” Cissnei said.</p><p>There was no need to explain the implications of that name. But Aerith knew – she had seen the brief glimpses, like tiny flickers of candlelight in her memories. She had walked past the bloodstained surgical tables with their harsh metal restraints. She had watched the life wither away in those cell-like rooms, like flowers denied sunlight and water and love. She had seen her mother sob in the bathroom, trying to drown out the evidence of what they subjected her to underneath the hum of the running shower. Those details would not be the ones discussed in the papers Sephiroth was holding, for there would only be numbers and calibrations and clinical observations. There would be no talk of the cost, no mention of pain, and nothing of sorrow.</p><p>For his part, Sephiroth hardly seemed perturbed – he was still perusing the rest of the documents. “Subject S was imbued with cells from an excavated specimen, referred to here as the Ancient, in hopes that S would inherit its abilities. The source specimen listed is the exact same lifeform that had been used by Hollander in his experiments. Which indicates that Project G and Project S were linked.”</p><p>Silence fell, as the parties in the room spared glances at each other, at Sephiroth. Aerith knew that they were all taking a moment to absorb the new information, but she herself was too fixated on the way Sephiroth spoke, how he referred to himself, his history, his existence, in a completely disconnected tone. It made something in her chest ache with sadness. It also made something in her stomach boil with rage.  </p><p>Then, Zack interjected. His next words were slow, hesitant, fearful, worried. “Does that mean you’ll degrade too?”</p><p>Somehow, the question managed to tear Sephiroth’s concentration away from the pages, and the earlier focus in his eyes was replaced by a subtle and soft surprise. “No. Hollander’s reports on degradation all imply that the phenomenon is unique to Project G, as its subjects had the ability to copy their cellular traits. I don’t—”</p><p>It was swift, the way the words died in the General’s throat, the way those eyes, stern and calculating, widened with realization. Without warning, Sephiroth dropped the papers, stood up, began pacing and breathing and running a hand through his silver bangs. Any earlier self-consciousness had burned away in a rising flare of anger, and for singular, frightening moment, the General looked as if he were about to storm out of the room, set fire to the building, and take everyone and everything down with it.</p><p>But then, the moment passed. Sephiroth stilled, though that silent fury still pulsed, still colored the air around him. Suddenly, and absolutely involuntarily, he said, “Fuck Hojo.”</p><p>The comment would have made Aerith laugh, but she knew now was not the time. Even Zack, who had reached forward for the documents and had begun to read them himself, remained perfectly serious.</p><p>“You think that’s what he did to Cloud,” he said. “You think he tried to copy your traits onto him.”</p><p>“It would explain Cloud’s altered behavior.”</p><p>Without missing a beat, Zack repeated, “Fuck Hojo.”</p><p>“I agree, but there’s another point that we’re missing here,” Kunsel interrupted, tugging one of the papers out of Zack’s hand. He pointed a gloved finger to a particular line, with the highlighted words<em> excavated specimen.</em> “The source of everything, of Genesis, of Angeal, of you, of what’s happening to Cloud – it’s this thing, what the projects <em>suggest</em> is an Ancient.”</p><p>The Second’s choice of words was deliberate, because it immediately helped Aerith realize his exact intentions. It was the reason she was here. The small bit of clarity that she could provide. “And yet,” Aerith stated, her voice level and clear, “My mother said we were the last ones.”</p><p>There was another silence, as the truth now settled in the air. Aerith watched as Zack leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees, covered his face with his hands. She watched as Sephiroth turned to face the window and allow the twilight filtering through the blinds to wash over his face. That would be an expression that she would always remember – the look of a man who was utterly lost, who had no idea what he was meant to be. It was something Aerith herself could never fully comprehend, because her fate was there, written by her ancestors, sung to her each day and night by the flowers that grew beneath her palms.</p><p>(And yet, she did not want that fate. Perhaps the two of them were both lost.)</p><p>Finally, Sephiroth spoke, his head tilted slightly toward Cissnei’s direction. “I assume that you could not access anything regarding what that specimen actually was,” he asserted more than asked.</p><p>Cissnei let out a breath. “No,” she confirmed, and the disappointment hung in the air, like a choking fog.</p><p>And then, the redhead smiled, the same way she had to Aerith before, with the same honest promise.</p><p>“But I know where you can find out.”</p><p>---</p><p>There was something about staring down at the assortment of metal rooftops that comprised the slums that made Cloud feel, strangely, at peace. He supposed it had something to do with growing up near a mountain, hiking its trails and observing from above the way the wind blew through the town below. But the comfort he drew upon now, sitting on a metal platform beneath the plate, curled against a railing, was still bittersweet. After all, it had only been some months ago, when he was pushed off one such platform and nearly broke his back as a result. And yet, Cloud knew it was precisely that damage, that terrifying brush with finality, that brought him here. This was the last place he wanted to be, and therefore, it had become the only place he knew he could go.  </p><p>He let himself shut his eyes, let the cold breeze brush past his face and through his hair. This high up, Cloud could almost imagine himself flying, soaring, and lifted and free. The thought was pleasant, like running around his backyard on a cool spring afternoon, like rushing through the streets on a smooth motorcycle, like falling asleep in the arms of someone he cared about. But now, all of those experiences were tainted and broken. Now, all Cloud could feel – and all he had felt in the last few days – was the opposite: shackled and uncertain and trapped.  </p><p>It was unfair, though, to blame Sephiroth for any of it. That much Cloud knew, deep in his heart. The way the man’s face fell when he had lashed out, when he had spoken those hurtful words – there was a part of Cloud that wanted apologize, wanted to leap into his arms, wanted to kiss that sadness and pain away. Just a few days ago, he might have done that, without hesitation. Now, however, he was no longer sure.   </p><p>Slowly, Cloud curled into himself, taking his legs off the ledge and pressing his knees against his chest. He hated this. He had thought that he had gotten past the uncertainty and insecurity. But instead, the old doubt returned in full force, coloring his every thought, consuming his every action, as if dug up by the painful truth: he was damaged. Like a defective doll, Cloud had been tampered with, violated, and as a result, he could no longer trust himself, his own body, his own mind. The only thing that felt certain anymore was Sephiroth, his presence, his desires, his being. And even that was an overwhelming and terrifying lie. But while he logically knew that, reasonably understood it, it did not change how much Cloud felt he needed the man, how much he wanted him, and how far he feared he would go for him.  </p><p>(<em>“Did you find me to kill you? Is that why you trained me? To make me your murderer?”</em></p><p>
  <em>“I do not know.”)</em>
</p><p>His head felt so heavy, so full, from the crushing confusion, from the simmering feeling of betrayal. That was what it was – <em>betrayal. </em>Not by Sephiroth, but by his own heart. After all, Cloud had wanted this, right? To join SOLDIER, to fight by Sephiroth’s side, to become the man’s equal, to become something more? And for a few months, Cloud almost had it all, the promise soft and sweet like the feather-light kisses Sephiroth used to give him in the mornings. Everything he had ever dreamed of, wished for, had been right there. It still was, in some way, right at his fingertips, and Cloud still wanted it, with almost everything he had.</p><p>But not like this. Because now, it would not be real.</p><p>A breath escaped from Cloud’s lips, drifted away in the night air. He kept his forehead against his knees, almost as if to push the mounting pressure of <em>everything</em> out of his skull. The fear of losing himself to what he knew was an illusion, the anger at the world for taking his dreams and corroding them until they were unrecognizable, the bitterness of disappointing someone he cared about with his weakness – it all bore heavy in his bones, gripped vicelike and unforgiving at his heart. Whatever strength Cloud had, whatever stubborn will stirred him forward, through taking the SOLDIER exams, through recovering from his fall from the Sector Four plate, through surviving the terrorist attack at Junon, it no longer seemed enough. He had expended it, had reached the end. Now, it looked as if he would finally break.  </p><p>Somewhere along the way, lost in his sea of thoughts, Cloud had begun to cry. He hardly noticed, not until the tapping of boots on metal behind him finally broke through the whirlpool of his mind. But still, the blond did not look up, not even when Zack moved to sit beside him, threading his long legs through the slits in the railing to dangle freely off the edge of the platform.</p><p>“Strange place to think,” the other man commented by way of greeting. “A bit dreary for my taste.”</p><p>“Then go away.”</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>Finally, Cloud let himself glance up, just to glare. “The point was to be alone.”</p><p>“Then you should have turned off the tracking feature on your PHS. You’d make a terrible Turk.”</p><p>“I am not in the mood for your jokes right now.”</p><p>“Good, because I am not in the mood to joke,” Zack replied. His voice was uncharacteristically stern, sharp. He added, “You missed a pretty important meeting.”</p><p>Cloud did not bother pointing out that that was done purposefully. Because he knew what would have happened had he gone. He would see the look on Sephiroth’s face as more and more details of his horrific past came to light, and it would make his heart ache for this man even more terribly, and it would break the last bit of resolve that he had left, and then he would be over. No, it was better this way, to hear an abbreviated version from a third-party. It was better to keep the space he had scrambled to build, to maintain the separation, in whatever way he could. For himself. For Sephiroth. This was the only way.</p><p>Quietly, the blond sighed. “Okay. Just tell me what I need to know.”</p><p>The eyes that Zack gave him now were like daggers to the soul and Cloud tried his best to ignore the clear disappointment shining in that mako-blue.</p><p>“We think we’ve found the source of what Hojo did to you. But to get there, we’re going to need your help.”</p><p>Cloud tightened his grip on his knees. He should have felt optimistic. After days of nothing, of trying to salvage and lock away what he could recognize of himself, he should have felt grateful for this tiny glimmer of hope. But something curled inside him, dark and dreadful, and while Cloud could not quite place it, he knew that it portended nothing good. A part of him screamed to run away, to go back to what he knew, to the anonymity of the trooper barracks, to a life of obscurity, (<em>to where he belonged</em>). But the glow of his eyes, the strength of his hands, the broadsword that was propped against the wall behind him – they were all reminders that that life had ended. That he was on a different path. That it was far too late to turn back now.</p><p>“Where are we going?” Cloud asked, trying and failing to ignore the way his heart began to hammer in his chest.</p><p>Zack looked at him. He breathed in, and then said, “To Nibelheim.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah well, I suppose we all know where this is headed now...or do we? Stay tuned to find out!</p><p>Next week, Cloud comes home.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Homecoming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The trio arrive at Nibelheim, and Cloud gets a much needed reminder of who he truly is from the person who knows him best - his mother.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi, everyone! Thank you again for your awesome comments and engagement thus far. I still cannot believe people read this thing. Really, I appreciate you all for being so supportive and kind. </p><p>I know last chapter was a bit of a downer, but I promise you that this chapter will be a lot sweeter in return (alright, maybe everything except the very last scene). I did say this was a ride of ups and downs, so we'll be on an upswing...for now. </p><p>Also, yes, this is kind of a double update for this week. I'm planning on switching back to a more regular update schedule after this. Sorry for the erratic timing, but I hope you will all bear with me. </p><p>Anyway, let's dive right in!</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Mentions of past bullying, some dark and violent imagery, hints of social anxiety.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The truck rolled to a stop in front of the pathway that wound into cold and grey Nibelheim. It was now well into spring, but patches of snow continued to cling to the rooftops and the dirt, and the air still tasted sharp with the edges of winter. The muddy brown and hollow streets, the ominous and haunting mountain that loomed above – it all seemed to give the atmosphere a sense of manufactured lifelessness, as if the very soul of the ground and the wind had been meticulously sucked away. In a way, Sephiroth supposed, that statement bore more than a passing resemblance to the truth. Zack often joked from his own experience about how the presence of a mako reactor rendered life in small towns such as Nibelheim and Gongaga utterly inconsequential (“If there’s a reactor, that usually means nothing else out there!”), and after travelling to a handful of other similar places throughout his career, Sephiroth found himself inclined to agree.</p><p>And yet, there was something else brewing in him at the sight of the wooden buildings, of the water tower that jutted upward from the central square. Sephiroth had to turn the feeling over and over in his mind to be able to properly name it: familiarity. He had seen this landscape before, perhaps in a distant and buried memory, but most certainly from his dreams. Whether by accident or by design, they were here, standing at the setting of his nightmares. These were the homes that had burned under his fingertips, the dirt pathways he had drenched in blood, and when the realization hit him, it felt icier than the dying winter. For a moment, Sephiroth thought of turning back, of running, of hiding, but something unnamed, unknown, kept him rooted to the spot. Inevitability. Resignation. He knew that in arriving at this place, at this moment, he had crossed a line from which there was no return. That now, regardless of what awaited them, of his own desires, it was simply far too late.  </p><p>(After all, if he could not run from his fate, the next best thing was to rush into it headfirst).</p><p>“So, this is Nibelheim,” Zack said, joining Sephiroth at the entryway. “Cloud was right. This place looks terrible.”</p><p>Speaking of Cloud, the Second was behind them, sharing a terse goodbye with the truck driver that had given them a ride from Costa del Sol. The man appeared to know Cloud from his childhood, as he had continuously lavished praise on their “hometown hero,” all throughout the journey. For his part, the blond looked a bit embarrassed, and maybe even a little angry. But he said nothing, did nothing, gave nothing away. In fact, Cloud stayed silent, lips pressed in the same tight line that had been present the moment they set out from Midgar. Whatever his true thoughts, they remained sealed away, locked behind the beautiful swirl of his blue eyes.</p><p>Finally, the driver gave a wave and headed off, back down the road that curved around the mountain. When the sounds of the engine began to fade from hearing, Cloud stepped up to stand beside them, his boots making soft crunches against the mixture of dirt and snow. It was hard to tell whether he was happy or sad at the prospect of seeing his hometown for the first time in nearly two years, as his expression was unreadable. There were so many things Sephiroth wanted to ask Cloud, so many words that remained unspoken since their bitter exchange three weeks ago. But in the rush of setting up this impromptu cover mission, of helping Kunsel and Cissnei cover their tracks, there had been no time to voice them. And even if there had been a second to spare, Sephiroth was much too fearful to push.</p><p>Yet, the sight of Cloud standing in front of Nibelheim’s entrance bubbled a strange curiosity within him. Without warning, without control, and without any sense of where it had come from, the question slipped out of Sephiroth’s lips, almost before he even realized it.</p><p>“How does it feel? To be home after all this time?”</p><p>Cloud’s eyes flickered to him, their glow brilliant in the fresh air. Surprise. It was the first flash of anything that Sephiroth had seen in him in weeks, but as hopeful as that sign was, nothing actually came out of the blond’s mouth. Instead, Cloud merely ducked his head into his jacket and began making his way up the path into town, allowing the silence to hang in the air like an empty noose.</p><p>In response, Zack put a hand on Sephiroth’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “Hey, if Cissnei’s right and this is where Project S started, maybe this is your hometown, too.”</p><p>For so many reasons, none of which Sephiroth was ready to name, that statement was not as comforting as the other man intended it to be. Still, with no other options, Sephiroth opted to respond with the truth:</p><p>“This does not feel like a homecoming.”</p><p>There was nothing left to say. Zack turned and started walking and Sephiroth moved to follow. The time was just after noon, but the streets were relatively empty, perhaps because the cold air discouraged people from leaving their warm homes. However, there were still a few curious onlookers watching the party of SOLDIERs as they moved into the central square, and their whispers were brewing beneath their hushed breaths.</p><p>(<em>That’s Claudia’s boy, isn’t it? He looks so different!</em></p><p>
  <em>Those are SOLDIERs. Wow, their eyes really do glow. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Is that the General Sephiroth?)</em>
</p><p>And then not a whisper, but a call: “Cloud! Cloud!”</p><p>It came from young woman with dark hair and sharp crimson eyes, who cradled a paper bag of groceries in her arms. She was dressed in boots and a blue coat, and she had a warm smile on her lips, the kind that gave away an easy and unfiltered affection. Beside her were two other young men, also about Cloud’s age, who appeared in both posture and expression to be distinctly less welcoming. In fact, they kept a few paces behind as the girl quickly crossed the square to approach Cloud and their party.</p><p>“Hi, Tifa,” Cloud said, and it was less the fact that he spoke at all and more how he sounded that drew Sephiroth’s attention. For that brief moment, it was as if Cloud had turned back the clock to nearly a year ago, to how he was at the start of the SOLDIER program: awkward, uncertain, unsure. But there was no denying the look of happy admiration in those eyes, nor the flicker of soft fondness folded into the way that he said that name.</p><p>(<em>The way he used to say yours</em>, Sephiroth’s mind unhelpfully supplied.)</p><p>In response, the young woman – Tifa – laughed lightly. She dropped her bag of groceries, and immediately wrapped her arms around Cloud in a tight embrace. “Really? That’s all you say to me, after such a long time?”</p><p>Cloud’s arm gingerly lifted to return the hug. “Sorry. I’ve been a little busy.”</p><p>“I heard. You were all over the papers after Junon. People honestly could not believe it.”</p><p>That statement made Cloud step back, look away. It also finally drew his attention to the two others with Tifa, who were watching the scene the same way that Sephiroth was – with a sense of bewilderment and maybe a tiny hint of resentment (not that the silver-haired man would ever admit to that aloud). The blond nodded, to acknowledge their presence. “Calvin, Roy. Good to see you both.”</p><p>The one on the left with light brown hair, Calvin, offered his hand to Cloud. “You, too. You look good.”</p><p>The blond took the hand, and shook it firmly, the way a SOLDIER would. “Thanks.”</p><p>Tifa smiled again, then glanced over Cloud’s shoulder in Sephiroth and Zack’s direction. Her eyes widened. “Are you going to introduce us to your friends?” she asked, clearly curious as to why, out of all the places on Gaia, the Demon of Wutai was here in Nibelheim.</p><p>Cloud shuffled a little sheepishly, as if caught off-guard by Tifa’s directness. Luckily, Zack took it as his cue and stepped up, putting on his dazzling puppy grin. “Hey there. I’m Zack, First Class. And this man here, well, he probably needs no introduction, right, General Sephiroth?”</p><p>Sephiroth did not reply.</p><p>Tifa watched them, wariness creeping at the edges of her eyes. But if she was nervous or suspicious, she hid it well, instead straightened her back and addressed them directly. “Hi, I’m Tifa Lockhart. This here is Calvin Carter and Roy Keifer. We went to school with Cloud.”</p><p>“Yeah, we go way back,” the one called Roy added.</p><p>And it was only because Sephiroth understood Cloud well enough by now that he was able to catch the subtle flinch that struck through the blond’s body. His heart ached a little then, because Sephiroth knew, from all the stories Cloud had told, about the way the villagers of Nibelheim treated his family. This sudden and false friendliness was likely a bitter draught for the young man to swallow. But he could not reach out and try and comfort Cloud, not after what had happened between them, not after the blond made it clear that all he wanted from Sephiroth was space.</p><p>“Are you on a mission or something?” Tifa asked. She looked at Cloud expectantly and there was no mistaking her flirtatious interest in the blond now.</p><p>“Yes. We came to get readings on the reactor,” Cloud explained. It seemed whatever feelings he harbored for the girl, he was at least confident enough to stick to the cover story they had crafted.</p><p>That had been a necessity, and not just because they needed to avoid arousing Hojo’s suspicion. Following Genesis, Angeal and Lazard, the Shinra bureaucratic machine now required Sephiroth to file mission reports up to Heidegger. They therefore needed some excuse plausible enough on paper to buy them time before anyone asked any questions, and the reactor seemed like a perfect fit. What they really came for, however, was Shinra Manor, which Cissnei’s research had indicated as the original site of Project S. As for the Turk herself, she, along with Kunsel, elected to remain behind, both to keep an eye on Aerith and to inform them of any potential movements on the part of the Science Department or other Shinra powers, which left the task of unearthing the truth behind the unknown lifeform, the excavated specimen, the source of it all, to the three SOLDIERs.</p><p>Still, though Heidegger apparently bought the excuse, Tifa remained suspicious. She pressed on, “Is there something wrong with the reactor?”</p><p>At this point, Zack interfered. “No, ma’am. Just some routine maintenance.”</p><p>Tifa’s gaze once again moved to Sephiroth. “They send the General on routine maintenance missions?”</p><p>Sephiroth had to hand it to her – she was clever and tenacious, just as much as she was beautiful. No wonder Cloud seemed very fond of her. “If I am unlucky, then yes,” Sephiroth stated. He put on his best authoritative air, the one he took on when he gave orders to his men, hoping that it would dissuade the girl from questioning further. “We understand that official protocol would be to contact the leader of a village; however, given that your reactor has not been inspected in years, we felt it was more prudent to skip the normal channels.”</p><p>There was a small pause, as the words sunk in. But finally, the young woman nodded. “Sorry. I’m the mayor’s daughter, so I get curious about these things. But that makes sense. If you need someone to take you up to the reactor tomorrow, I can get the key.”</p><p>“That would be great, thanks,” Zack said. His tone was sharp, an attempt to bring the impromptu investigation to a close.</p><p>The girl appeared to take the hint. Tifa looked back at Cloud, again with her soft smile. “Your mom will be happy you’re back,” she murmured. Then, she stepped forward, adding, “I am too.”</p><p>Cloud shyly nodded. “Yeah.”</p><p>She laughed, stooped down to grab her grocery bag. “See you tomorrow then. I’ll bring you the key in the morning. Hope you all enjoy your stay in Nibelheim!” And with that, she and the other two men headed back up the path, disappearing behind the shadow of the water tower.</p><p>Once she was out of sight, Zack pounced, wrapping his arm around the blond’s shoulder. “So, Cloud, who was that?”</p><p>“A friend.”</p><p>“Oh, sure.”</p><p>The younger man scowled, shoved Zack off. To prevent any further teasing, he refocused on the mission at hand. “Sorry. We might have to make a detour to the reactor, in case other townsfolk get curious. Maybe we should go to the manor tonight then.”</p><p>“No,” Sephiroth said. “Your friend has a point. You should go see your mother. We can go the manor tomorrow.”</p><p>Cloud looked at him once more, brow furrowed, eyes dark. For a moment, it seemed like he was finally going to say something to him, end this strange and heavy trial of silence. But it was simply Sephiroth’s wishful thinking, because then, the moment passed, and Cloud glanced away, turned and left.  </p><p>A beat followed, as they watched the blond’s form retreat. Zack stepped up. “I’ll talk to him,” he offered. “He’s just – he’s hurt. And confused.”</p><p>The General shook his head. “It’s alright. He did not sign up for this. He never had a choice.”</p><p>“Neither did you, Sephiroth. Don’t forget that.”</p><p>Sephiroth looked at his gloved left hand, opened and closed it, imagined the weight of his blade and how it would sing in the air, imagined the tickle of fire sparks dancing on his fingertips, imagined the heat of the conflagration and how it would melt the remains of winter, along with everything else in this town. It was a memory so familiar to him now, despite the fact that it was not a memory he wanted to make real. But he was beginning to think he might not have a choice, and maybe, as Zack suggested, he never really did. And yet, it would not stop Sephiroth from fighting, even if in the end it would change nothing for him.</p><p>As long as it would change something for Cloud.</p><p>---</p><p>There was always something about Nibelheim that brought out the worst in him, and Cloud hated himself for letting it show. But he could not help it – the way that being back in this town set him on edge, stoked the fires of his inner doubt. The insincere smiles of some of the villagers only made matters worse. It made him all so angry, like he once was as a boy, running from playground bullies and falling on scraped knees. Back then, he had lashed out at his mother, the most important person in his life, and though she never deserved it, she took it with her usual grace and patience (though she would always make him pay for it later via chores and sarcastic comments). This time, he had a new target, though he knew Sephiroth was no less culpable, no less to blame.</p><p>Over and over, Cloud kept replaying the last real conversation he had had with the man, the bitterness of his words teasing the back of his throat. It was a mixture of guilt over what he had said and fear of saying anything else that rendered him mute around Sephiroth now. He had thought it was the better course of action. But after seeing the way Sephiroth seemed to crack under the weight of the silence, after sensing his desperation through mysterious tether between them, Cloud realized how utterly wrong he had been. When he had turned away from Zack and Sephiroth, Cloud had done so quickly, simply because he did not want either of them to spot the tears that were welling in his eyes.    </p><p>He had tried to compose himself before knocking on the door of his old home. But unfortunately for Cloud, even after nearly two years, Claudia Strife still had her sharp eyes and still possessed that keen ability to read him like an open book. As he entered the threshold, she glanced up at him from her seat on the couch, and once they locked eyes, Cloud found that he did not even have to say a word.</p><p>“Oh, Stormcloud,” Claudia said, immediately standing up and drawing him into a tight hug.</p><p>They stayed like that for a few minutes, Cloud finally letting the tears fall silently down his cheeks, and Claudia rubbing her arms up and down his back in soothing circles, the same way she always had for him as a child. Except this time, he was no longer a tiny boy curled in her lap, but a young man, towering above her by a few inches. And yet, the familiar comfort was there, seeping into his skin, warming him from the cold.</p><p>“You’re home now. You’re safe,” she whispered.</p><p>He choked back a sob, and with it, the plea of how much he wished that would be true.</p><p>Claudia looked up at him, placing her hand on his cheek. She maybe had one or two wrinkles more than before creasing her forehead, but she was otherwise as bright as ever, in her brown and orange dress and knitted grey socks. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate and we can talk, okay? I’ve finally gotten a hang of that expensive coffee maker you sent over for Yule, and you won’t believe how delicious the drinks taste now.”</p><p>Cloud watched his mother saunter into the kitchen. His eyes then turned to scan the rest of the space. There were plenty of things that remained recognizable: the pictures on the fireplace mantel, the quilt couch cover they had both made together when snowed in during that one terrible winter. But there were also a few new things, like the stove and the dining room table, things that his mother had always wanted to fix up, and things that Cloud could only afford to give her after he had joined SOLDIER. They were odd reminders of the tiny amount of good in his circumstances, woven into the fabric of the fraught mess he now found himself in.</p><p>He sat down on one of the new dining room chairs, observed as Claudia fiddled with the various knobs and buttons of that coffee machine (Kunsel had recommended it, saying it was the best on the market, which Cloud later learned meant it was the most complicated). The smell of hot chocolate began filtering through the air, and with it came memories of winter nights huddled by the fireplace, of Yuletide gifts exchanged, of stories and myths his mother used to tell with her gentle and lyrical voice. There was not much he missed from Nibelheim, but this – this he did miss, dearly. And he had not realized how much until his hands started to shake.</p><p>“Ma,” he said, softly.</p><p>Claudia turned to him, two steaming mugs at hand. She placed one on the table in front of him, lifted his trembling hand and pressed it against the warmth. The quiet relief flooded Cloud immediately.</p><p>“You can tell me,” she said.</p><p>“I don’t even know where to start.”</p><p>“Maybe with that new uniform you are wearing. Have I told you how proud I am of you?”</p><p>“You and everyone else, apparently.”</p><p>Claudia laughed in response. “I became the most popular woman in town when your picture landed in the paper. It was very difficult not to tell everyone else where to shove it.”</p><p>At that, Cloud could not help the smile that began tugging at his lips. He even laughed, as he wiped away the residual tears from his eyes. Gaia, he really did miss her and how safe she made him feel, even in a town that sometimes treated them as less important than the dirt they all walked on.</p><p>“Guess you haven’t made new friends then,” he said.</p><p>His mother smiled. “No, not like you have. The General’s protégé, huh? That was all you ever wanted.”</p><p>Involuntary, Cloud’s hands tightened around his mug. After all, she was right, and had been witness to his playful admiration of Sephiroth since the man first appeared on the television screen. She had bought him the poster that hung in his bedroom, indulged him when he naively proclaimed that he would join SOLDIER and one day be as strong as famed the General. This was his dream, what was supposed to make him happy. And yet, one small difference transformed that sweet dream into a terrible nightmare.</p><p>He kept his eyes firmly on the tendrils of steam rising up from the brown chocolate, watched the smoke wither and fade into the air. The words that came out of him next were soft and small. “I don’t know what I want anymore,” he said. “And I’m so afraid of making the wrong choice.”</p><p>His mother regarded him carefully. She asked, with complete fondness, “Well, what does your heart say?”</p><p>The tears were returning, the corners of his eyes stinging. There was no point in dodging it anymore. While he knew he could not tell her the full truth, hardly knew it himself, Cloud did not – could not – lie to his mother. So, he let the crux of his fear fall free.</p><p>“What if my heart is the problem? What if I can’t trust it?”</p><p>“What do you have to lose?”</p><p>Cloud looked down, away. “Myself. Everything.”</p><p>His mother paused. Her expression was confused, but nevertheless thoughtful. Claudia reached for his hand, and then, smiled. “Oh Cloud,” she said, full of knowing and love. “You should know, there are worse things to lose yourself to than your own heart.”</p><p>It was clear what she was talking about, and Cloud felt a mixture of guilt and affection grow within his chest. She never once shown an ounce of regret over her circumstances, over the fact that she had given birth unwed and at a young age, had been left to raise a child all on her own, had been ostracized because of it. All of her actions and all of her words poured out love, and never resentment. She had called Cloud her greatest gift. This was her way of reminding him of that.</p><p>He curled his fingers around his mother’s outstretched hand. As he stroked his thumb over her knuckles, Cloud said, “It might not be that simple.”</p><p>It was like an itch, her eyes on him, regarding him with a knowing tenderness. The blue was gentle, but strong, full of both care and pride. Out of all the things his mother had given him, those eyes and what they represented were by far Cloud’s favorite inheritance. They told the truth, showed that Claudia Strife had steel in her, in her heart, in her backbone. No matter what snide comments or crude jokes or unwarranted harassment the village threw her way, she held her head high and refused to allow anyone to make her feel afraid or ashamed. Even after spending this past year with the strongest men in the world, it would always be his mother’s resilience that Cloud would admire the most.</p><p>Finally, Claudia replied, “It hardly ever is. But we have to hope for better anyway.”</p><p>“How can you keep hoping, when things seem to keep getting worse?”</p><p>“What other choice is there, Cloud? You only lose when you stop.”</p><p>He knew that, had always known that, seen that from her example. But that wasn’t his problem – instead, it was and had always been the very thing the villagers had tried to convince him was his truth.</p><p>“Maybe I’m not strong enough to.”</p><p>The words hovered silently between them. He thought of Zack and his boundless ability and flowing generosity, of Sephiroth and his quiet determination and unparalleled prowess, of his mother and her refusal to allow anyone control over her joy and her life. Cloud was nothing compared to them, and it showed – because he had cracked the moment something changed, the moment he let the doubt bleed in. All this time, he had been playing at being a SOLDIER hero. In the end, he was nothing.  </p><p>Suddenly, Claudia said, “Do you remember, when you fell from Mt. Nibel? How many bones you broke, how many days of school you had to miss?”</p><p>Cloud looked askance at her, uncertain of why she was choosing to bring up what was decidedly a very unhappy memory for them both. “Yes. Why?”</p><p>“Because,” his mother said. “I meant to tell you how proud I was of you.”</p><p>Cloud let his eyes widen with shock. “Proud?”</p><p>“Tifa was hardly injured at all. You held her, protected her, took the force of the fall. When you finally recovered and walked throughout town and everyone accused you of leading her up there, you said nothing, you never blamed her,” she explained. Then, she levelled her gaze, as if to ensure that the message she was about to convey would hit its mark. “You showed such a strength then, and I was too afraid and fearful and angry about losing you that I had forgotten to tell you how proud I was of you.”</p><p>Something was lodging in Cloud’s throat, and he was not sure what, but all he could do in response was let out a soft sob.</p><p>Claudia continued, “You say you aren’t strong enough, and that’s where you are wrong. I know, because you were only a kid then and I had never seen anything more amazing. I know, because you are a Strife, Cloud. Our hearts were always made for the sterner stuff.”</p><p>Cloud closed his eyes, let out a long breath. Could he believe that? Was he strong enough to? His mother seemed to think so. Even without asking for further details, it was like she could sense the flow of his thoughts. No matter how stubborn he was being or how much time had passed, she would always be the one that knew him best. And if she believed, and if she was right – well, Cloud knew what his heart really wanted, had always wanted from the start.</p><p>“He’s here, you know,” he said, feeling the color rise in his cheeks. His mother would have definitely caught the blush. “The General, I mean. Along with my other friend, Zack.”</p><p>A single blond eyebrow rose. Claudia clapped her hands with playful finality. “Well, then. I hope your friends like Nibel wolf stew.”</p><p>He smiled, brought the chocolate mug to his lips, tasted the sweetness and the warmth. “Yeah, I hope so, too.”</p><p>Because he had to. Because she was right. There was no other choice. For Zack. For Sephiroth. For himself. Cloud had to hope, had to have the strength to. Hope that they would find the truth, hope that it would set them free.</p><p>But first, he realized, and not without a massive sense of guilt, he had to hope that Sephiroth would forgive him.  </p><p>---</p><p>The house appeared exactly as Cloud had described – small, quaint, charming, and warm. It felt oddly familiar, though Sephiroth supposed that had more to do with the person who grew up here than the space itself. And yet, despite that or maybe because of it, he was nervous. The anxiety had begun bubbling within him shortly after that unexpected text from Cloud, asking for their presence at dinner. Zack proclaimed that this was a good sign and had switched from concerned to excited. But based on Cloud’s behavior over the last few days, Sephiroth was less than optimistic.  </p><p>“So, are we just standing here, or are we going to knock?” Zack said, staring at him with distinct amusement. Since that message, the Lieutenant had been teasing him all afternoon, providing a crash course in <em>meeting the parents</em>, which involved summarizing some famous comedy movies and highlighting the typical tropes. Normally, Sephiroth would have appreciated the young man’s attempts at humoring him, but Zack had unknowingly touched upon another personal sore point – the fact that he had little to no knowledge about how to act in these perfectly normal human situations. The only reason he knew that this was an important occasion was because he understood how much Cloud’s mother meant to the blond. It was enough basic comprehension to surmise that he ought to make a good impression, but the problem was that Sephiroth had no idea of where to begin.</p><p>He supposed actually knocking on the front door was a good place to start. Sephiroth lifted his hand, tapped lightly on the wood, and immediately heard a scuffling of footsteps from within the house. Two voices exchanged some murmured words – one male, one female. But before he could attempt to make out what they were saying, the door swung open, and Cloud, dressed in a casual navy sweater and jeans, peered up at him with his blue eyes.</p><p>“Hi,” Cloud said.</p><p>Whether it was the fact that that had been the first real word Cloud had spoken to him since their awful fight, or the reality that looking into those eyes would never fail to steal his breath – either way, Sephiroth found himself speechless in response.</p><p>Behind him, Zack conspicuously coughed. He stepped up to rescue Sephiroth from his embarrassment. “Hey. Nice home, Cloud.”</p><p>Cloud ducked his head. “It’s all my mom’s doing, really.” He moved aside, opened the door a little wider. “Won’t you come in?”</p><p>They crossed the entrance, walked into an open space – a living room with a couch placed in front of a fireplace, and a kitchen with a wooden dining table and four matching chairs. The scent of something hearty and savory wafted in the air, sourced from the large pot simmering on the stove. And there, standing in the kitchen, with a brown apron draped over her orange dress, was a woman that looked nearly like Cloud’s mirror image.</p><p>“There you boys are,” she sang, wiping her hands on a towel and turning to regard them. The twinkle in her eyes was disarming, both in its ease and in its warmth. “Hope you’re hungry!”</p><p>Zack grinned. “Wow, Cloud. I didn’t know you had a sister.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Cloud said.</p><p>The woman smiled, traversed kitchen to meet them at the entrance of the living room. “I’m Claudia, Cloud’s mother. I’m assuming the charming puppy must be Zack, which means you—” and at that, she gazed right up at Sephiroth, with absolutely no fear nor malice, “—must be <em>the</em> General Sephiroth.”</p><p>The directness of the approach was a bit alarming, nearly throwing Sephiroth off his guard. But he tried his best to keep the anxiety controlled, instead focused on actually making use of his voice. He cleared his throat, extended his hand to the woman. “Yes. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Strife.”</p><p>“It’s Claudia,” she replied, and the strange echoes of a former conversation (<em>“You can call me Cloud, sir, if you want to.”</em>) resounded in his head. The resemblance was uncanny. She took his hand and shook it firmly, adding, “No reason for formality between friends, after all.”</p><p>Zack smirked. “The General is a military man. He’s hardwired that way.”</p><p>Cloud rolled his eyes. “Then what the hell happened to you?”</p><p>“I think I might have skipped that training session or missed that memo.”</p><p>“Figures.”</p><p>“Boys,” Claudia interrupted, a sweetly authoritative undercurrent in her voice. She crooked her brow, amused, tilted her head toward Sephiroth. “I have no idea how you manage to handle these men, General. Seems like it would tax your sanity.”</p><p>There was some part of Sephiroth that recognized the joke, knew it was an attempt to break through the awkward introductions, to signal that he was welcome. But even with that knowledge, he had no idea how to react. It reminded him of his first interactions with Genesis and Angeal, how lost he had felt trying to navigate the space between their easy intimacy. Though they did their best to make him feel included, had arguably succeeded to a surprising degree, the reality that Sephiroth was some alien intruder in their relationship would never leave him. He truthfully and simply did not belong.</p><p>But it would not do for Claudia to see all that. So, in response, Sephiroth just nodded.</p><p>Once again, Zack moved to fill the void. “Did you need any help with dinner, Claudia?” he said, tone chipped and light to cover over the silence.</p><p>For her part, Claudia seemed to understand. She stepped away from Sephiroth, fixed her smile on Zack. “Yes, that would be lovely, if you wouldn’t mind joining me in the kitchen.” But at that, her gaze shifted to her son, and there was something exchanged between the two sets of blue eyes that Sephiroth could not decipher. It suggested a secret plan, a quiet conspiracy, and it made him all the more nervous.</p><p>Then, Cloud spoke up, and the nerves threatened to balloon to a full grown panic. “Sephiroth, do you mind coming with me? We can go get wood for the fireplace.”</p><p>Out of fear, out of sadness, and maybe out of anger, Sephiroth wanted to say no. But he knew enough to understand that that would not be an appropriate response. And there was something about Cloud’s expression, soft and promising, so much more like the Cloud he had gotten used to spending lazy weekends with, kissing amongst the sofa cushions, and less like the one that had been maintaining frosted distance over the last few days. It made Sephiroth’s heart ache.</p><p>“That’s a great idea,” Zack said. He added, softly, “Glad to see you are feeling a bit better, Cloud.”</p><p>The blond shifted his gaze down to the floor, a quiet apology. That seemed to be enough for Zack, who responded with his own dip of the head, his own silent acknowledgement.</p><p>And Claudia did not miss a beat. She offered a fond, encouraging smile to her son, then clapped her hands, like a clocktower bell signaling the start of a new day. “Alright. Now that that is settled. Zack, to the kitchen. We’ll see you two in a few.”</p><p>Sephiroth watched the two of them walk toward the stove, then turned his attention back to Cloud. The younger man was looking at him apprehensively, and at the sight, the General could feel once more the dread that had begun building since he had received that text invitation. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Perhaps he should say so aloud, take his leave, maintain the distance. After all, that seemed to be what Cloud needed most, right?</p><p>And yet, when Cloud moved forward, took his hand, weaved his fingers through his, and whispered, “Please,” Sephiroth found himself utterly unable to refuse.</p><p>So, he followed the blond, out the back door of the house, across the yard toward the barn. In front of its painted doors were a few piles of chopped wood, some bundled neatly together with brown twine. He expected Cloud to stoop down and pick one such bundle up, so they could head back into the house, but instead, the young man spun on his heel, faced Sephiroth directly, pinned him to the spot with those dazzling eyes.  </p><p>“I figured we should talk” Cloud said, suddenly, quickly. “Though I know that our last conversation did not end so well.”</p><p>Sephiroth tried to steady his heartbeat, tried to steady his entire body and his racing mind, steel himself for more. Another barbed accusation, another painful truth. “Yes,” he said, slowly, carefully. “But it was…understandable.”</p><p>Cloud furrowed his brow. “What exactly did you understand?” he asked.</p><p>This was a question he did not want to respond to, for speaking the answer aloud would bring forth the truth of Sephiroth’s existence. From Gast, to Ilfana, to Angeal, to Genesis – everyone he had come to care for eventually left. The expanse Cloud had been constructing between them made it clear that it was what the blond wanted, too, only there was something false and cruel that Hojo had done keeping them chained together. And as much as Sephiroth wanted to hold on, he could not do so, not to Cloud, not to the man that he –</p><p>Sephiroth pushed forward. If Cloud would admit to wanting to leave him now, it would be alright. Pain was at least an old and familiar friend.</p><p>“I understand that this was not what you asked for,” he said. “That this was not what you wanted. Please be rest assured that I will do my best to figure out what happened to you, and how to reverse it. Then, you will be free.”</p><p>(<em>From me, </em>went unspoken).</p><p>Cloud sucked in air, sharp and gasping. Sephiroth waited, for a reply, for the separation, for the severing. But instead, the blond stepped into him, pressing his face into Sephiroth’s chest, wrapping his arms around Sephiroth’s torso.</p><p>“I did a terrible thing, didn’t I? To make you think that…I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for all of it.”</p><p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p><p>He had not been expecting this. Cloud’s words filtered through his mind, like streetlights through a foggy night. It did not make sense. This did not make sense.</p><p>“You do not need to apologize,” Sephiroth replied, nearly paralyzed with confusion. “It was my fault. I should have protected you.”</p><p>“It wasn’t your fault. I was the one that was weak, that was afraid. And I never should have taken it out on you. It was unfair.”</p><p>He was sure his heart was thundering loudly, sure that Cloud could hear it, and it made him all the more embarrassed, ashamed. “You’ve already offered so much of your strength, indulging my weaknesses. To ask for more from you – that would be unfair.”</p><p>Those arms squeezed him tighter, more desperately. Cloud raised his head, looked at Sephiroth now, tears brimming in his eyes. “But what if I want to?”</p><p><em>No, </em>Sephiroth thought. <em>Do not offer me that hope. </em>For he knew he would take it, if he could. He would take it, and it would be the end of Cloud. The list of names, the piles of bodies, scattered throughout every moment of his life – it was all proof of that. No, it would be better for Cloud to leave him, before he had an opportunity to cause him further harm.  </p><p>“You shouldn’t,” the silver-haired man replied, though he could not bring himself to pull back from the embrace. “I have caused you enough trouble. I should stay away. I should—”</p><p>Then, Cloud grabbed the lapels of his jacket and tugged him down for a fierce and full kiss.</p><p>It was like electricity, like the relief of fresh water, like the spark of warm flame. It coursed through them, igniting the tether their heads, sending fireworks through their minds, their souls, their hearts. The feeling was just as intense as that moment he had grabbed Cloud’s arm in the training room, except instead of being overwhelmed with a desire to possess, to own, Sephiroth simply wanted to fall. At the touch of those lips, whatever self-control he had, whatever resolve he had willed himself to maintain, melted into nothing. He leaned forward, grasped at Cloud’s waist, pushed the blond back against the wall of the barn, and kissed him, again and again and again. There was no moment for breath, no moment for anything at all, except this – because this was all he had ever wanted.</p><p>And in between kisses, Cloud whispered his name like a spell. “Sephiroth, Sephiroth,” and that was it.</p><p>He dipped his head, bit lovingly into the column of the blond’s throat just above the neck of the sweater, felt the thrill straight through his body at the moan Cloud gave in response. Smaller hands traveled up his back, burying their fingers into his silver locks of hair. As Sephiroth continued to nip at the exposed flesh, Cloud kept murmuring, gently, “I’m so sorry. I swear. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Enough, Cloud,” Sephiroth said, his lips trailing up that neck, to the jaw, to the ear, back to that mouth. He swept his tongue over the blond’s lips, a whisper for permission. Cloud freely gave it, and the taste was like the sweetest thing Sephiroth had ever experienced in his life. It was nearly too much, and it made Sephiroth wonder how he had even survived the last weeks, deprived of this wonder, this kiss.</p><p>Finally, they broke for air, and Sephiroth was about to dive back in, when he heard the sob, felt the wetness slip down Cloud’s cheeks.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Cloud said again, glancing down, away. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Sephiroth tucked his hand under Cloud’s chin and lifted that gaze to meet his. “Just promise me one thing,” he said, gently swiping a finger to wipe away a tear.</p><p>“Anything.”</p><p>“That you won’t leave me.”</p><p>Those eyes glowed, defiant, proud, beautiful, like they had in his dreams, like they had so many times over the course of this past year. Even after all this time, Sephiroth knew he would never get tired of being lost in that blue. He would drown in it happily, willingly, truly.  </p><p>“I promise you. I’ll never leave you,” Cloud said, and then shifted upward for another kiss.</p><p>But their lips met only for the briefest of moments, because another voice, delighted, and full of laughter, cut through their bliss.</p><p>“This is an interesting method of gathering firewood, I’ll say, right, Mama Strife?”</p><p>A happy giggle, followed by, “Indeed.”</p><p>An altogether different type of panic shot through Sephiroth now. He stepped back, released Cloud, straightened himself upright like he was taught to by his drill instructors in his youth. Meanwhile, Cloud let out a strangled noise that sounded oddly like a howling chocobo and covered his face with his hands to hide the obvious mortification.</p><p>“Ms. Strife,” Sephiroth started.</p><p>“It’s Claudia, remember? Definitely no more need for formality, especially since you’ve had your tongue down my son’s throat.”</p><p>There was something close to a blush rushing over Sephiroth’s face now, but he tried to keep as calm as possible. Luckily, Cloud regained enough of his own composure to speak out. </p><p>“Oh, Gaia, Ma,” the blond groaned.</p><p>Claudia only grinned in reply. “We just came to get you, since dinner’s now ready,” she said. She let her eyes bounce back and forth between her son and Sephiroth, scanning for more information, for something. Evidently, whatever she found, she seemed pleased by, because her tone became all the fonder and all the more amused. “I have to say, Stormcloud, he’s even more handsome than the poster you have in your room.”</p><p>“Ma, please!”</p><p>Another joke that Sephiroth managed to understand, but this time, his reasons for failing to respond were different. Because there was another fact about Cloud revealed in that sentence he was more interested in.</p><p>“Stormcloud?” he asked.</p><p>Cloud sighed. “Nope. Not the time for that. Ma, let’s go. I’ll set the table.” The blond began marching back to the house, grabbing his laughing mother by the wrist to drag her back with him. Despite his clear embarrassment, he did spare a moment to glare at Zack, who only barked out laughter in response.</p><p>As Sephiroth watched the Strifes walk away, he pressed a hand to his own chest, in an attempt to quiet his hammering heart. There was no doubt that his anxiety was through the roof now, but there was something else growing, something much warmer, much safer, less threatening. It only took him a moment longer to realize what it was – that promise. It would be something he would hold onto, no matter what, even if he managed to humiliate himself beyond recognition over this dinner. Though, based on the smile on Claudia’s face, for the first time in weeks, he had a feeling that perhaps he was going to be alright.  </p><p>And yet, that still did not stop Zack from slinging an arm over his shoulder and gracing him with the most shit-eating grin he had ever seen before. “Gaia, that was the greatest thing ever. This makes me feel so much better about the time I met Aerith’s mom. So, so much better.”</p><p>Sephiroth only rolled his eyes.</p><p>---</p><p>Unbeknownst to them all, a figure stirred from shadow of the barn. It had watched the scene before him with mako blue eyes filled with curiosity, shock, and realization.</p><p>He supposed should have known earlier, from the papers, the magazine articles, the talk. After all, the surprisingly small SOLDIER had been the one to foil his plan at Junon. But there was a part of him that could not believe it, could not comprehend that Sephiroth, cold, calculating, inhuman Sephiroth, was capable of forming that deep of an attachment to anyone. And yet, there it was, the opening he was waiting for, the irrefutable proof.  </p><p>Sephiroth’s weakness.</p><p>Somehow, the sight of it <em>hurt,</em> though he rationalized it as a symptom of his degradation, the residual aches of the wounds that now refused to heal. But that hardly mattered anymore. For he had a plan, and this time, he was now armed with something that would guarantee the outcome he had been working for. This time, he would not fail.  </p><p>Genesis stepped back into the darkness.  </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Genesis: Surprise, bitch. I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.</p><p>I guess it goes without saying that in the next chapter, Genesis makes his move. </p><p>Hope to see you next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Fear</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sephiroth hears a familiar-but-unfamiliar voice. Cloud awakens in a cold place.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And we're back! Once again, thank you everyone for your lovely comments and engagement. I really hope to keep working hard for you all, as we continue on this wild journey. Again, just as a reminder, we shall be continuing with weekly updates all the way until Chapter 19, as that will bring us to the end of Part One. After that, there will be a brief break (of like three weeks) to allow me time to write more ahead, and then we shall be back with weekly updates throughout Part Two. </p><p>Alright. Enough of that!</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Violent and disturbing imagery. Descriptions of kidnapping and a hint of a drowning.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That night, when Sephiroth closed his eyes, the fire returned.</p><p>It blazed, suffocatingly thick, swallowing all it its wake. Flames kissed the now recognizable wooden roofs, melted the snow patches, burned through the dirt. Above the crackling of the sparks, he could hear the chaos he had come to know so well – the screams, the pleas, the tears. But despite the cries for mercy, despite the desires of his own heart, Sephiroth knew the truth. This was not to end – instead, this <em>was </em>the end. This was to be an insatiable conflagration, one that would turn all it touched to ash, and even then, it would continue blazing onward, reaching higher and higher until every last star in the sky was burned out.</p><p>He knew, because he felt the endless hunger of the wildfire burn in him, too.</p><p>Like a puppet on strings, Sephiroth moved steadily, methodically, through the town, through the land, through the whole earth. He heard the dying let out their final screams, saw the orange and the yellow and red chart their crooked paths. He experienced the corrosion of life at his very touch, sensed the curling of the air, as if breath itself desired to flee from him and the death he wrought. And most of all, he felt the thrill of the destruction, burrowing deep inside him, kindling the blaze that pulsed from his body and his mind and his hands.</p><p>
  <em>Was this what he wanted? </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why was this what he wanted?</em>
</p><p>If Sephiroth could have, he would have stopped, tried to contemplate, tried to think, tried to regain control. But there was no escape and there was no time to question. No matter how far or how long Sephiroth walked, the fire would be there. It followed him from Nibelheim, to the edges of the Planet, and to the sky, almost as if it were carrying him upward, buoying him like wind underneath outstretched wings. As Sephiroth soared higher and higher, the flames around him transformed into something brighter, more tangible – a star, a comet, a meteor, scorching through the atmosphere, burning through the air. The heat continued to tear its way through the heavens, and it was only when it reached the vast and empty space that overlooked the Planet, that the brightness finally ceased its climb.</p><p>What followed was a moment of relief, an odd suspension of time and space and light and dark, like the gaping pause between the ticking of a slow-moving clock. It seemed to stretch into eternity, for long enough that Sephiroth questioned if he would remain here, floating in the blackness and breathlessness, forever. But then, the moment ended. Then, the fire released him, left him, slipped from him. Then, the star suddenly turned – and fell.</p><p>Sephiroth could only watch. It was inevitable, irrevocable, inescapable. The meteor would descend. The Planet would shatter. Everything and everyone would burn, and there would be hollowness left behind, a pure wasteland, a solitary confinement, a boundless silence. Upon that terrible, powerful, wonderous impact, nothing would remain of the world that Sephiroth had lived on, breathed on, killed on. Nothing at all but him.   </p><p>Once upon a time, Sephiroth could have recognized this as something he might have wanted – the end of everything, the end of all his pain. Let it all fall to dust, crumble in his fingertips. Let him be as alone as the world so keenly wanted him to be.</p><p>Except he knew now that being alone was never what he really wanted.</p><p>And his dream seemed to sense that too, because from the nothingness came a voice, sweet, gentle. It tasted like honey in a warm brew of tea, sounded like perfect chords in a melodious symphony. It was familiar, in the sense that he knew the voice was always meant for him, though the truth was that he had never heard it, <em>her,</em> before. But the moment the sounds reached Sephiroth’s ears, his chest began to ache, because this was a lullaby that he had longed to hear since he was a child.</p><p><em>My son,</em> it said, lilting and soft. <em>My son.</em></p><p>
  <em>Mother?</em>
</p><p>Sephiroth attempted to turn his body toward where he thought the call was coming from, but in the empty space, in the lack of gravity, he could hardly maneuver, could only float on, endlessly, uncontrollably.</p><p>
  <em>My son. My son.</em>
</p><p>He tried again, to reach out, to move, but to no avail. The struggle, the inability to ground himself and latch onto something real began to build frighteningly in his throat. Sephiroth pushed through as hard as he could, to call back, <em>Mother, is that you? I cannot see you. I cannot reach you.</em></p><p>The laughter that responded sent a flicker of warmth through him, enough to soothe the edges of his panic. <em>It’s alright, my son. I am here. </em></p><p>It was so simple statement, and yet, like a spell, it sent an unbridled joy surging within Sephiroth. He closed his eyes, let it melt, let it sink. <em>Mother. I have wanted to meet you for so long.</em></p><p>
  <em>I have longed for it, too. But we cannot. Not yet.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Our Reunion is close. You simply must have the will to carry it through.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Carry what through?</em>
</p><p>Something bright flashed before his eyes then, and he could see the remains of the Planet, its inner soul desperately grasping and clinging to pieces of the earth’s now broken shell. Some part of Sephiroth’s mind, the part that came from his childhood, from reading books with Ilfana and being tutored by Professor Gast, wondered if that was what the Lifestream was supposed to look like – green tendrils reaching out from Gaia’s core, like veins and arteries from a beating heart. Sephiroth was not sure why he felt instinctually afraid of it, why he feared being caught in its hooks, why he feared being taken and swept away. Because now, there was little to fear. Because now, the green and warm light was flickering away like the embers of a snuffed candle. Because now, the heart of the Planet had been broken and was beating its last.</p><p><em>This,</em> the voice said, curling around him, like a loving embrace. <em>This is what you must do.</em></p><p>There was supposed to be dread, despair, regret, anger – all the things Sephiroth had felt when he had walked through another razed village in Wutai, when he had read the kill orders Shinra commissioned against his two closest friends. But instead of all those reasonable things, out there at the edge of creation, Sephiroth felt <em>peace</em>. He almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all, but it was as if his body had lost all capacity to process emotion. He could do nothing but stare, watch as the Planet emptied itself completely, the green light of life fading into grey, into black, into oblivion, into nothing.  </p><p>Like an echo, his own voice, his own mind, repeated: <em>This is what…I must do.</em></p><p>The curl turned into a hook, and dug into him, into his soul, into his heart. <em>Yes, my son. This is what you were born to do.</em></p><p>Sephiroth let it burrow, let it settle, let himself close his eyes. It was so warm here, so comfortable, so painless – and it would be so easy to fall into that feeling further. It felt a lot like the moments Ilfana would indulge him with a mythical tale or Genesis would bring him coffee or Angeal would invite him for a walk. It felt a lot like the happiness he thought he would never have, like everything he wanted. In fact, Sephiroth could have accepted this, this kind of free and insane existence, a universe with only him and this voice. A year ago, he maybe would have made this choice. But something was different now, and when that hook broke through his chest and tried to grasp for his heart, he remembered why.</p><p>Sephiroth remembered that he had already given his heart, gladly and freely, to another.</p><p>The realization fractured the façade that floated around him.</p><p>
  <em>But what if I want something else?</em>
</p><p>The edges cracked.</p><p>
  <em>My son, my son. </em>
</p><p>Instead of gentle warmth, there was a searing blaze. Instead of peace, there was pain. It was all the hurt he had ever felt in his lifetime in a single sharp second, poured into the tip of a blade now piercing through his body. It was all the anger he had honed into fine weaponry, all the sorrow he had hidden away inside. It threatened to consume him, to tear him apart, shatter him like the fire he had summoned had shattered the Planet. But Sephiroth forced himself to hold on, forced himself to breathe, forced himself to push against the thickness and the embrace that was trying to suffocate him, trying to swallow him whole.</p><p>
  <em>My son. You do not need anything else but me. I will give you all you want. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don’t understand. I don’t—</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That is alright. You will soon. I promise. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But I – I –</em>
</p><p>Light began bursting through then, breaking through the vision. He was awakening. The dream (nightmare) was ending.</p><p>The voice began to fade, whisper. <em>My son, my son.</em></p><p>
  <em>Mother, wait please!</em>
</p><p>Sephiroth tried, clung desperately to the wisps of the vision. There were too many questions –<em>what was happening and why was he seeing this and was this a message and were all the other dreams messages and if so what was his Mother trying to say </em>– and he needed the answers. But there was nothing he could do. The darkness slipped away, the vision of the broken Planet replaced by the trims of the sunrise peeking through the curtains, by the chittering of the town now emerging underneath the new dawn. A few more seconds passed. Finally, when Sephiroth willed himself to open his eyes, the only thing that remained from the dream was the confusing mixture of emotions and thoughts and questions, the woven threads of bewilderment, happiness, sorrow, and dread.</p><p>The weight of it was nearly paralyzing and it took Sephiroth more than a few moments to shake the vestiges out of his mind. He closed his eyes once more and worked to center himself in the present moment, think about his breathing – how loud it sounded in the room, how prickly the air felt flowing in and out of his nostrils. He concentrated on the thickly woven blankets supplied by the inn and how they scratched on his skin, on the coldness of his toes poking out from the edge of the bed. But as much as Sephiroth tried, the haunting tones of that voice and of those visions continued to creep into his headspace, like a rising tide. It seemed that focusing on the physical was not going to be enough. So, he let his mind wander to what he knew he needed.</p><p>Last night. It was almost too good to be true. Sephiroth had heard the adage that there was nothing better than a homecooked meal, but he had not understood what that meant until Claudia served her stew. And yet, divine as the taste was, the meal somehow managed to pale in comparison to everything else about that dinner. There was Claudia, regaling them with stories of Cloud’s childhood, of the time that Cloud chipped a tooth from falling from the roof of the school building after trying to rescue a cat that had clamored up there in fear. There was Zack, who fired off embarrassing tales of his own, of the pranks he and the blond pulled on each other and together on fellow SOLDIERs. And there was Cloud himself, somehow scowling and blushing all at once, holding Sephiroth’s hand underneath the table throughout the entirety of the night.</p><p>Everything about that evening – the warmth, the pleasantness, the peace, the soft goodnight kiss he had shared with Cloud (the blond had made his mother and Zack turn around for that moment out of embarrassment), even the teasing chat with Zack as the two of them made their way back to the inn – was an anchor in a storm. It was the opposite of what Sephiroth had felt in his dream, floating listless and high above everything, lost and unsteady and desperate to cling to the first real thing he could find. In his dream, the only option had been that voice, evocative and sweet, whispering of glories and reunions to come. But in his waking life, it was and always would be Cloud, grounded and solid and warm in his hands, against his lips.  </p><p>There was also something else – an even more important contrast, an even more salient truth: unlike that voice, which demanded a cruel and heavy price, Cloud had already given him the one thing Sephiroth always wanted, and he did it easily and simply, all because Sephiroth had asked.</p><p><em>(“I promise you. I’ll never leave you.”</em>)    </p><p>That reminder was enough.</p><p>Slowly, Sephiroth let himself rise, rolling his shoulders to creak out the aches in his back. The bed on the other side of the room was empty, the pillows and sheets tossed aside, indicating that Zack had already woken up and had probably made his way down for breakfast. Sitting on the rather antique-looking bedside table was a clock that read a few minutes after six-thirty in the morning. By his normal standards, Sephiroth had slept in by more than an hour. While he recognized that it had likely been much needed rest, some tiny part of his mind was quietly unsettled by the deviation from routine.</p><p>But Sephiroth set such feelings aside and elected instead to begin the process of dressing and preparing for the day. In the brief interlude between dinner and saying goodbye, he, Cloud and Zack had settled on the plan of heading to Shinra Manor in the morning, to start digging through the remains for any information about Project S and the specimen Shinra used as the basis for its experiments. Cloud had explained that it was sort of a coming-of-age ritual for the school kids to sneak into the abandoned building at one point or another, and as such, volunteered to act as their guide. They were to meet back at the inn shortly before seven, the time selected as a small compromise for Zack’s sake (the Lieutenant was notoriously known for transforming into an extra whining puppy in the obnoxiously early hours), though that turned out to be an ironic twist now that Sephiroth was the one who was running behind schedule.</p><p>Briskly, Sephiroth shut the door of the room behind him and walked down the flight of stairs to the lobby. As expected, Zack was sitting at the table to the far right of the entrance, mug of steaming coffee at hand. But so too was the young woman who had boldly introduced herself to them the prior day. <em>Tifa, the mayor’s daughter,</em> his near-perfect memory helpfully supplied. Her presence immediately placed Sephiroth back on edge, for ugly reasons he would rather not contemplate or admit to at the moment.</p><p>“There you are,” Zack called, eyes crinkling into a smile as the General approached the table. “You slept in, for once.”</p><p>Tifa laughed. “It’s not even seven in the morning. This is what you call sleeping in?”</p><p>“For this guy, yes.”</p><p>Sephiroth ignored Zack, instead extended his hand toward Tifa by way of greeting. “Good morning, Miss Lockhart,” he said. Then, just to cut to the chase, “Did you need something from us?”</p><p>The young woman paused, as if taken aback by the swift and direct question. But she did not turn away, and it only took her another second before she adjusted and shook his hand. “Good morning to you too, sir. I figured you would be heading out early, so I came by to drop off the key to the reactor, only…”</p><p>“Apparently, it’s missing. The mayor couldn’t find it,” interrupted Zack, in between sips of his coffee. His tone was light, but there was a slight hint of curiosity, and maybe even of worry, though it would have been imperceptible to any who did not know the young man well. Regardless Sephiroth was inclined to agree: this detail was odd. Though both SOLDIERs knew they had no intention of actually going to the reactor, some other unknown party clearly did. The fact that there would have been no legitimate reason to do so (and that therefore, any intentions would have been decidedly illegitimate) only made the situation more concerning.</p><p>But even with that acknowledgement, there was still something else that bothered Sephiroth more. “Have you heard from Cloud?” he asked, eyes glancing quickly at the clock hanging above the entrance of the inn. It read six-fifty, and while perhaps still a few minutes before their scheduled meeting time, Cloud was usually punctual. His absence, coupled with Sephiroth’s dream, Tifa’s presence, the missing reactor key, and everything else about the morning – it was all starting to build something close to panic in Sephiroth’s chest.</p><p>“No, but I bet he’s just chatting with his mom,” Zack said. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”</p><p>As if on cue, a head of sunflower hair suddenly stepped into the inn. But it was not the particular Strife they had been anticipating – instead, it was Claudia, who was now rushing toward them with a frazzled look on her face.</p><p>“There you two are!” she called, her voice tight and afraid. She nearly stumbled over her own feet as she crossed the hardwood floor to their table.</p><p>“Ms. Strife?” questioned Tifa, moving forward to clasp the woman’s shaking hands. She tried to speak as warmly and reassuringly as possible, but Sephiroth could tell that the girl’s own sense of worry was beginning to sharpen her words. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”</p><p>Claudia inhaled, her breaths coming ragged and uncertain. There was no mistaking it now – that was outright fear in those blue eyes. The recognition was enough to turn up the fuel on Sephiroth’s already mounting anxiety, though he did the best he could to stay focused, to breathe, to listen, to still.  </p><p>Then, of course, the woman’s very next words shattered any hope Sephiroth had of staying composed.</p><p>“Cloud is missing,” she said. Her volume was barely above a whisper, as if afraid that even speaking the words aloud would somehow tempt further danger.</p><p>Zack had no such qualms. He stood up, nearly spilling his coffee, and yelled, “What?!”</p><p>For his part, Sephiroth remained silent, though the chaos was most certainly swirling in his head. His mind rushed through the possibilities – that Cloud was taken, that Cloud was hurt, that Cloud was in trouble. But there was also a voice in his mind that sounded eerily like the one in his dream, that poisonously murmured: <em>Perhaps he has left you. </em></p><p>He squashed the notion immediately. <em>No,</em> Sephiroth thought. <em>He promised.</em></p><p>
  <em>They all promise, don’t they?</em>
</p><p>It took a considerable amount of effort for Sephiroth to tear himself away from that traitorous thought, so much so that he nearly missed the tense conversation now brewing near him. Some time during the intervening seconds, Zack had moved to stand next to Claudia, to guide her to the chair he had previously been occupying. Tifa, too, had shifted, and was now kneeling in front of her, though she still had her hands around the woman’s, still grasping, still comforting.</p><p>“I know he was supposed to meet you,” Claudia began. “But when he hadn’t come downstairs, I went to check on him and—”</p><p>“And he wasn’t there?” asked Zack.</p><p>The woman shook her head. She tugged away from Tifa and reached underneath her apron (she had not taken it off, Sephiroth realized, which meant she likely ran over here as soon as she noticed her son’s absence) into the pocket of her dress.</p><p>“No, he was not. But this was on his pillow, instead.”</p><p>And right there, in the palm of her hand, with its purple hues rotting into black, was a sign, a message, a truth, that Sephiroth knew was clearly meant for him.</p><p>A dumbapple.</p><p>Sephiroth closed his eyes and breathed out the name.</p><p>“Genesis.”</p><p>---</p><p>When Cloud had fallen asleep, it was to warmth, and not just from his mother’s wonderful cooking. It had been growing in him from the moment Sephiroth kissed him against the wall of the backyard barn, and it kept intensifying all throughout dinner, even hours after he had finally said goodnight and climbed into his childhood bed. As he tossed and turned from a restless bliss, more than once Cloud had to ask himself whether it was possible for a heart to be this full. Because every time Sephiroth squeezed his hand or offered one of his rare smiles, or Zack barked out in laughter, or his mother winked at him mischievously, Cloud could feel his very soul expanding, as if trying so hard to accommodate this vast and surreal good fortune and affection and care all at once.</p><p>That was a startling contrast to what Cloud felt now, when he woke up.</p><p>His body registered something cold beneath him. In fact, everything felt like frost, tickling, nipping, and biting his skin. Some part of Cloud’s mind became aware of the fact that he was barefoot, that he was still dressed in simple sleepwear, and that the surface he had been laying on was hard and freezing and clearly no longer his bed. But when he finally opened his eyes, to scan his space, to see where he was, to grasp at reality, those no longer became the details that mattered.</p><p>Immediately, Cloud screamed.</p><p>In front of him, sprawled out on the grated metal floor, was a <em>monster.</em> It looked vaguely humanoid in its appearance, with arms and legs and a torso, but its face had been disfigured by grey and black patches of flesh, and its head featured wild and twisting horns. The creature’s feet were in the shape of morphed hoofs and its hands and fingernails were sharpened into talons. But what frightened Cloud the most were its eyes, open and glowing, but empty and green in a way that was eerily and terribly familiar.  </p><p>“What?!”</p><p>Quickly, Cloud tried to get up, tried to shift away. But in the aborted movement, he found that his ankles were bound, and his wrists were tied tightly together, and before he could even think about that fact or shift an inch further, someone took hold of the bindings and pulled <em>hard, </em>to hoist him up in swift, indifferent fashion.  </p><p>“Oh, won’t you shut up? These makinoids have been dead for ages.”</p><p>Between the sudden shock, the cold winter air, and the fact that he had actually never met the man in person before, it took several moments for Cloud to recognize the owner of that voice. But the giveaways were obvious, in the tattered coat, in the black feathered wing, in the shimmering rapier, in that grey-tinged red hair.</p><p>“Genesis,” Cloud said.</p><p>The man in question smirked, clearly entertained, even as he tugged on Cloud’s ropes to pull him further upright. “Oh? Were you a fan? That’s not surprising. You do seem like the type.”</p><p>There was something so malicious, so purposefully cruel in the tone. It made the uncertainty and confusion Cloud felt about the situation retreat, only to be suddenly replaced by a palpable and searing anger. Immediately, the blond tried to yank himself away, jerking his arms backward to release Genesis’s hold. But despite the man’s degraded state, he held on firmly, only now, whatever amusement at Cloud’s reactions he had held initially was beginning to fade.</p><p>“Stop struggling. Don’t make me cast another Sleep on you.”</p><p>“What do you want? Why are you here? What is going on?”</p><p>Instead of answering, the former SOLDIER lifted his sword and pulled Cloud forward, slamming the smaller blond’s torso into the hilt of his blade and effectively knocking the wind and the fight out of him. Cloud cried out in pain, his knees buckling from the force of the blow. He sunk to the floor, his chest heaving up and down as it tried desperately to find air again.</p><p>“You are far too talkative and energetic for someone in your situation,” Genesis stated, walking around him and swishing that rapier in the air, teasingly. “I would stop trying to escape. The only reason you made it up this mountain is because I carried you. You would never make it down unarmed and dressed as you are.”</p><p>Cloud glared up at him. “Shut up.”</p><p>Genesis smirked. He then tossed his head to move his bangs out of his eyes. The casual motion telegraphed as an insult, and in spite of the pain in his abdomen, Cloud found himself absolutely seething, once more.</p><p>Still, he took a moment to recall his training and center himself, to get his bearings, to think. They were in some steel and titanium structure, a large and single line of stairs cutting through the center of the expansive chamber up to some door at the top level. Protruding out from the staircase were three or four additional levels of platforms, each housing a series of pods that Cloud had only seen in passing during his appointments with the Science Department. But he recognized the pods and their purpose mostly from the descriptions Sephiroth had given him of the man’s time in the laboratories – they were designed for holding experiments, for drowning them directly in mako, for trapping monsters and keeping them contained, no matter how powerful or deadly they were.</p><p>At that, Cloud’s eyes flickered to the creature lying next to him. There were droplets of fresh mako on its skin, as well as scattered on the adjacent floor. Like a cracked silver eggshell, the pod closest to them was wide open. His blue eyes began to widen.</p><p><em>The mountain. Mako pods. Steel.</em> They were in the reactor, the one next to the town that Cloud had grown up in, ran around in, played in, dreamed in. All along, all throughout his childhood, these things– what had Genesis called them? Makinoids? – had been there, slumbering in their steel cages, forgotten, dead, left behind. They looked monstrous enough to be frightening, human enough to be unsettling. Were the makinoids once human? Could they have been?</p><p>If they were, Cloud realized somberly, that would be incontrovertible proof of Shinra’s deception and cruelty. Much like the man in front of him right now.</p><p>“Oh, Gaia,” Cloud whispered.</p><p>Genesis quirked his brow, evidently placated by the change in Cloud’s demeanor. “Reality finally dawning on you? Good. This will make the next step easier.”</p><p>Suddenly, Cloud found himself lifted once more, dragged forward by his wrists to the open pod. The panic set in, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. Once or twice, he tried to scream, for help, for something, for Genesis to stop, but the redhead seemed utterly disinterested. Cloud even attempted to break through the bindings, channeling all the strength he could through his arms, down his legs. But it was to no avail. Despite the struggle, and with a few harsh shoves and twists of the arm, Genesis managed to maneuver Cloud into the pod and engage the lock, shutting the blond into the metallic casing.</p><p>“There. Comfortable?”</p><p>Cloud answered that by slamming his fists against the small glass window.</p><p>The redhead laughed. “You certainly have fight in you. That suddenly explains a lot.”</p><p>“What do you want?” spat Cloud, offering his best and most pointed glare.</p><p>Genesis smirked once more, and Cloud was beginning to see why Sephiroth often described his old friend as one of the most infuriating people one would ever encounter. The man’s condescension did not end with his expression, but also infiltrated his words, his gestures, his tone. “From you? Technically nothing. Unfortunately, you are just collateral damage.”</p><p>Though the anger was still there, Cloud suddenly felt something else – dread. It was now clear: he was here as a bait. There was something, or rather someone, else that Genesis wanted, and in spite of his overwhelming predicament, Cloud found he was even more fearful of what exactly that could mean for the person he cared for most.   </p><p>Whether Genesis noticed his train of thought or simply did not care, he gave no inclination. He continued speaking. “But I will say, Cloud Strife of Nibelheim, you do have me very curious indeed.”</p><p>The blond knew he should not respond, knew that it would be giving the man the attention he so clearly craved, but Cloud could not help himself. He was trapped in a box, his claustrophobia and anxiety were threatening to break through his skin, and the words came falling out of his mouth.</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>Genesis stepped up to the window, his eyes examining him with a mixture of fascination and maybe a little bit of disbelief. “You. The little SOLDIER who saved Junon,” he said, tapping the glass with a maddening playfulness. “That was impressive work. Though when I saw your photograph, I must admit that you were far from what I expected.”</p><p>Cloud had heard comments like that enough times to know the best retort, which would be to ignore the noise and to let the words roll down his back. But while he kept his mouth closed, that did not stop him from hardening his glare. Genesis was so obviously trying to push his buttons, dig in deeper, find more information. The last thing Cloud wanted was for anything he would say to be used as a weapon against Sephiroth. So, he kept silent, refused to indulge the insanity, the danger, the fear.  </p><p>But Genesis remained unperturbed. If anything, he seemed even more delighted by the challenge, like a predator who instinctually knew it had the upper hand against its prey. And as it turned out, he did have the advantage, in a way that Cloud did not expect.</p><p>“No reaction then? How adorable. You seemed much more talkative the other night. Practically gushing in the General’s arms, I say.”</p><p>Despite his best efforts, despite his attempt to stay calm, stay neutral, the realization that Genesis had been there, playing witness to that vulnerable moment, the image of the man that had wrecked such havoc in Midgar and nearly blew Junon into obscurity skulking in the shadows near his childhood home, where his mother lived and slept – it was all too much. Cloud let out a shaky breath, his weakness now slipping onto his face, now stripped bare. He averted his gaze, in an attempt to stifle and hide the tears now brimming in his eyes. But he knew there was no use in hiding, knew that Genesis would see, knew that he had given the man exactly the reaction he wanted.</p><p>Unfortunately, Genesis did not stop there. Cloud had heard of the former SOLDIER’s reputation for relentlessness (there was a reason why troopers were cautioned to avoid him specifically, lest they end up accidental fodder to one of his outbursts), but this was his first time truly experiencing it, and the unabated cruelty hurt far more than he had expected.</p><p>“Well, you might not be what I expected for a SOLDIER hero, but you look exactly like someone who would get on his back for Sephiroth. I suspect you must have a unique talent for that, to have a man such as him begging for you, so pathetically.”</p><p>This time, Cloud slammed his hands repeatedly on walls of the pod, and with every contact, he screamed out his frustration, his anger, his rage. The metal did not give, not in the slightest, the vibrations of his assault merely ringing around him, making the limited air feel tighter and tighter.  </p><p>The laughter that came out of the redhead’s mouth was dark, nearly accusing. “Oh, I see. Don’t like being called a whore, do you?”</p><p>Cloud ignored him, focused on lowering his shoulder and ramming forward to try and knock open the lock. But without the proper space to ramp up enough momentum, the attempted tackle was futile. Still, he refused to give in to the despair and panic that was starting to edge on his movements. He could not. He had to keep fighting. He made a promise, after all.</p><p>He straightened himself up, fixed Genesis with another pointed stare, blue eyes blazing bright. “I truly pity you,” Cloud said, each syllable like ice, like the chill of the mountain wind. “You just don’t get it at all.”</p><p>Genesis narrowed his eyes. “You are a nobody, a stranger. Do not presume to know the truth.”</p><p>“I don’t,” Cloud said, leaning forward so he was as close to the glass window as possible. “But I do know Sephiroth. I know how much he cared for you, for Angeal. How much he wants to help you and make things right. And I know that you know this, too, even if your desire for revenge has blinded you to the point that you can’t even see it.”</p><p>Somehow, that managed to hammer home. The other man paused, stepped backward, watched him with curious eyes. For a moment, Genesis looked a little hesitant, contemplative, maybe even guilty, and Cloud allowed a flicker of hope to light within him. <em>Maybe, just maybe…</em></p><p>“You are wrong,” Genesis murmured, so softly that Cloud, trapped in his metal cage, almost did not hear it. “I know Sephiroth cares. Why else would you be here?”</p><p>Then, Genesis reached over, flipped a switch on the side of the pod, and after a suspended second, Cloud smelled the familiar stench of mako beginning to encircle his tiny space. Sure enough, the green liquid was there, bubbling around his toes and ankles, burning and itching through the exposed flesh of his feet.</p><p>He glanced upward, through the looking glass, his plea unconcealed and unambiguous in his eyes. But Genesis only offered a sly smile in response.</p><p>“Well, for your sake, I hope we’re both right.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry for the cliffhanger. This was one of those chapters that got too long and had to be split in two. As for what will happen next...well, tune in next week to find out!</p><p>And if you feel like yelling at me sooner, feel free to check out my twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/crescentstrife">@crescentstrife</a></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Monster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zack, Tifa, and Sephiroth arrive at the Nibelheim Reactor to rescue Cloud. It goes just as well as you would expect - which is not well at all.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back, everyone! </p><p>I am still stunned at the support you have been showing this story - really, thank you so much. The whole process of writing this fic has been a great source of joy, so I am happy to see that others have been entertained and thrilled by this tale, too. I hope I don't disappoint in the future!</p><p>That being said, uh, this chapter is pretty angsty. It's Nibelheim and Genesis, so I guess that's par for the course?</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Disturbing imagery, psychological torture, physical torture and injury, and a mental breakdown/hints of suicidal ideation toward the end.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Nibelheim Reactor.</p><p>Like a gargoyle perched on a dark ledge, it sat nestled between the jagged rockfaces, a cathedral of steel and metal and greed. Its spires jutted upward into a beautiful and clear sky, while its tubes rooted below into the dull and gray earth. Around the structure, the air buzzed incessantly, but not with a sense of life; instead, it smelled of acid, tasted of corrosion, felt like the slow and arduous push of a dying man’s final breath. There was no avoiding the truth: this place was a parasite. It was an abomination. The reactor was an unnatural atrocity forced into the natural mountain landscape, and therefore, an oddly appropriate setting for the confrontation to come.</p><p>(Because no matter what Sephiroth hoped for, he had the distinct feeling that all that awaited them behind those metal doors would be just that – a confrontation.)  </p><p>That feeling became even more pronounced, as Sephiroth walked to the base of the stairs leading up to the reactor entrance. There seemed to be nothing that could dissuade it, not the weight of his trusted nodachi within his fist, nor Zack’s stalwart presence standing beside him. The apprehension had been building all throughout their climb up Mt. Nibel, despite the relative ease of the journey: the mayor’s daughter, Tifa, had offered to guide them through the quickest route, and in the process, she had not slowed them down a single beat. She even displayed an impressive degree of martial arts prowess in the handful of monster encounters that had occurred. But whether it was his earlier dream, or the image of Claudia’s tear stricken face, or the way Tifa’s demeanor resembled another Nibelheim native with a stubborn streak – every second, every sight and scent and taste and touch and sound and thought and emotion of the day, all seemed perfectly designed to curl into the tender cracks of his mind, to render Sephiroth’s fear into sharp and painful focus.</p><p>The fear of what he would find. The fear of what Genesis had done and would do next. The fear of losing Cloud…and the fear of losing control as a result.</p><p>But Sephiroth could not retreat, could not turn away. Forward was the only option. After all, since the events of the prior evening, since that wondrous kiss, since that soft promise, he knew there was nothing of himself that he would not give to ensure Cloud’s happiness and safety. Even his own life. Even his own sanity. Even his own soul.</p><p>Still, that did not mean that he was going to allow another civilian to be caught up in the crossfire. Sephiroth turned his head, glanced back over his shoulder. “Ms. Lockhart,” he stated, baritone cutting through the air. “Thank you for your assistance. But I must ask you to remain here.”</p><p>Tifa protested, “I’m coming with you.”</p><p>He had expected as much. Ordering her to stay put would be futile. So, instead of adopting his usual expression, the composed, aloof face he put on in front of his troops, in front of the world, Sephiroth opted for a more honest approach: “The man waiting for us in there – he will have no qualms about killing an innocent bystander. You are Cloud’s friend. You have already done so much. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to get hurt. Do you understand?”</p><p>Again, the girl opened her mouth, but once her eyes met his and comprehension seeped into those crimson irises, she stopped. Momentarily, she let her gaze flicker to Zack, who simply nodded in response to affirm Sephiroth’s words. At that, finally, she relented.</p><p>“Alright,” said Tifa. “But if I hear any trouble, I’m coming right in.”</p><p>“You Nibelheim kids all this crazy?” Zack asked, his brow quirked in playful exasperation.</p><p>“Oh, you have no idea.”</p><p>There was a light laugh that followed, though hollow and tense. Zack shook his head, half-grinned. Tifa managed a small smile. Sephiroth silently nodded. But despite the tiny exchanges of reassurance, the young woman’s eyes remained ever watchful, ever worried, even as she stepped away to allow the two men to ascend up the reactor stairs.  </p><p>Just before they reached the door, Zack said, “Do we have a plan?”</p><p>It was a good question, one Sephiroth normally would have asked himself. But this time, he did not even bother. All throughout the last year, they had had plans – tactics, mission parameters, instructions, orders, and in the end, none of it had done them any good. Though, if he were being honest with himself, that fact was not what compelled Sephiroth to throw caution to the wind and push through the entrance without another word. He could feel his reason (<em>or lack thereof</em>) the moment he stepped past the threshold: something shifted inside him, the curling anger in his chest, the fire budding beneath the anxiety that had been bleeding out since the three of them had begun their mad rush up the mountain. It was a crashing wave, an inescapable riptide, and there was nothing Sephiroth could do but succumb to it.</p><p>His body moved by impulse, his right hand lifting and blasting a powerful lightning spell forward into the main chamber of the reactor. It was an attack purposely engineered with enough speed that Sephiroth knew there would only be a handful of people alive that would possess the ability to counter.</p><p>Of course, the man that was his target was one of them. In the split second that followed, Genesis summoned a barrier spell, and Sephiroth’s magic kissed futilely against the blue wall, the fizzling sparks highlighting the smirk on the redhead’s face.</p><p>“A little eager there, aren’t you?” Genesis retorted, rising from his perch in the center of the staircase. “I would have expected such behavior from the rambunctious puppy, but not from you.”</p><p>At the insult, Zack attempted to approach, but Sephiroth lifted a hand to stop him. He did not look back, however, as his focus was entirely on Genesis: at the grey streaking through the normally vibrant auburn locks, at the rot and disarray of his attire, at the wing, with feathers tattered and broken and falling. He was dying. Genesis was dying. It was so obvious, and it was so heartbreaking. This was desperation, this was fear, this was anger, and this was pain, at its very nadir. Once he recognized the sight for what it was, Sephiroth could feel his earlier recklessness and rage begin to smooth down, to fade into a familiar, dull, and aching guilt.  </p><p>But then, he heard something else. The banging, the muffled screams. Sephiroth turned his eyes away from Genesis and to the mako pod at his friend’s right. At its base lay a giant creature, with human limbs and inhuman everything else, but there was no time to question what it was or why it was there. Because inside the pod itself, there was Cloud, peering through the small glass window with beautiful blue eyes blown out wide – and with mako bubbling up to his shoulders.</p><p>Like a wayward spark, the wildfire was reignited, and the fury returned.</p><p>“Let him go,” Sephiroth said.</p><p>The chuckle that his former friend let out nearly set Sephiroth’s blood alight. Genesis took one step down, but otherwise maintained his vantage point, both in front of and above them. “Oh, don’t worry about him,” he stated with a dismissive shrug. “The blond still has a few minutes. You could spare one, actually, by being a bit more observant.”</p><p>Sephiroth did not want to look away, did not want to follow his friend’s uplifted hand, did not want to indulge the game. But inexplicably, he could not help it. His eyes travelled upward, above the other man’s outstretched arm, above the top of the metal staircase that cleaved the chamber in two, above the door situated at the highest landing, until they finally rested on the single word emblazoned over the arch.</p><p>
  <em>Jenova.</em>
</p><p>“Mother?”</p><p>The second the word left Sephiroth, it was like a different type of magic had been cast. Something like a whisper, like a call, began to resound in him, deep in his bones. The feeling from his dreams, of floating, of soaring high, of being lost among the nebulas and the stars – it returned then, echoing within him, as if his body and mind were threatening to slip back into that subconscious world and sever him from the reality. A part of Sephiroth tried to shake through, stake a foot into the ground and into the present moment, but like a wrecked ship battered by a storm, it felt like there was nothing he could do, nothing he could grasp, nothing he could say, to stop the inevitable, the sinking, the drowning.  </p><p>Sephiroth’s face faltered.</p><p>That was enough, for Genesis to take another step forward, to push on. “Yes,” he confirmed, his voice sharp and clear. “Your mother. What you’ve been looking for. The very source of the experiments, of the disease, of the rot. And of you and me and Angeal and <em>it.</em>” At the last syllable, the former SOLIDER lifted his sword, pointing the tip downward to the monstrosity lying on the steel platform beside him, to the twisted and corrupted creature that had once been human but instead had simply been left behind.</p><p>To the monster.</p><p>
  <em>Jenova. Mother. Monster.</em>
</p><p>There was a crack, the first break, somewhere deep inside Sephiroth’s head. “You – you’re –,” he tried, he fumbled. But the words remained lodged in his throat, as if his body and his very cells were working to embrace the something that his mind was still struggling to comprehend.</p><p>Genesis’s lips turned. “Come now, Sephiroth. I would not lie to you about this. After all, you’ve always known the truth.”</p><p>The cracks turned into fissures, spidering through the edges of the precarious scaffoldings that Sephiroth had been forced to build in his own mind. He had tried so hard to craft something solid, protective, passable, something close to sanity, something close to humanity. Somewhere along the way, he thought he had done it. But now, all it would take was a single blow, and the wall would come tumbling down.</p><p>And Genesis did not hold back:<em> “You are a monster.”</em></p><p>Everything shattered. It took all of Sephiroth’s strength to stay standing, to keep his knees locked, but even then, when the weight of it all crashed onto his shoulders, he stumbled, his head bowed and falling into his hands.</p><p>“Sephiroth!” Zack called, moving immediately.</p><p>The Lieutenant tried to reach for Sephiroth’s arms and shoulders, to lend support, to hold him upright. But the sparks of another spell erupted in Zack’s path, forcing a wall of fire between the two Firsts and sending the younger man tumbling aside. In the chaos, Zack cursed – and Genesis laughed – and the clamor and screaming within the metal pod intensified. But Sephiroth could not perceive any of it. His own mind and his own senses were suffocating in the onslaught, and like a sailor desperate to escape the hurricane, he clung to the words Genesis continued to speak, even though he knew the mocking tones were a deadly siren song, luring him to a final crash.</p><p>Genesis moved again, took another step. “You, Sephiroth, were the greatest monster created by the Jenova Project.”</p><p>
  <em>Jenova. Mother.</em>
</p><p>“The Jenova Project was the term used for all experiments relating to the use of Jenova cells.”</p><p>
  <em>Mother. Cells.</em>
</p><p>Zack’s voice sounded like a faraway foghorn, almost imperceptible, almost gone. But there was a small part of Sephiroth that managed to register the mounting alarm, the undeniable fear. “Genesis, shut up! I’m warning you.”</p><p>“Poor little Sephiroth,” said Genesis. He shifted even closer, standing the bottom of the stairs, just a few feet away from him. “You’ve never actually met your mother, have you? You’ve only been told her name. Well. I don’t know what images you’ve conjured in your head, but—"</p><p>Something crashed. It sounded like bone against metal. If Sephiroth would have glanced in the direction of the noise, he would have seen Cloud, ramming his fists over and over into the glass window of his container. The mako was at his neck now, the blond craning his head up above the line to buy himself more air, more time. But even though his heart lurched, yearned to reach out, to rescue, to protect, a powerful force continued to lock Sephiroth’s limbs and block his comprehension. In that moment, Sephiroth suddenly could not remember why he cared. His headspace swirled, the memories like a tornado, rapidly whipping around and around and around, until he could hardy recall what he was doing, where he was, why he was here. The was only one thing that remained clear, only one thing that mattered, only one thought that he seemed capable of retaining: <em>Jenova, Jenova, Jenova</em>.</p><p>
  <em>Mother.</em>
</p><p>Genesis continued: “Jenova was a life form excavated from a two-thousand year-old rock layer. A monster. Just like you. Just like this one here. Just like each and every one of the creatures housed inside these cages.” At that, the man spread his arms and his wing wide, gestured to the pods lining the floors of the reactor. His lips were turning upward, in triumph, in victory.</p><p>And Sephiroth’s hands were shaking, in fear, in defeat.  </p><p>There was more thudding, more screaming. Cloud kept thrashing.  </p><p>Zack tried again. “Shut up!”</p><p>But once again, Genesis did not relent. Instead, the redhead smiled and cast his curse, “Welcome to your reunion, Sephiroth.”</p><p><em>Reunion. Jenova. Mother. Reunion. Jenova. Mother. Reunion. </em>It was calling Sephiroth, reaching for him, trying to hook itself back into the chambers of his heart. He felt a shuddering warmth rise from within, swallowing him in a tight embrace. Sephiroth closed his eyes, tried to breathe, tried to think, tried to fight against the straitjacket that threatened to trap him in his own mind. But the mantra continued – <em>Reunion. Jenova. Mother – </em>each word scarring deeper in his skin, each syllable burrowing deeper in his soul.  </p><p>Was it true?</p><p>Was it real?</p><p>Was this all that he was?</p><p>Sephiroth exhaled slowly, shakily, like a man fearful that the next breath would be his last.</p><p>“What do you want from me?” he asked, in a voice that sounded nothing like who he once was, who he probably never would be again.</p><p>Genesis closed the distance, stood in front of Sephiroth. He reached into his jacket and pulled something out, unfurling the grip with his signature flourish. There, in his palm, was the calling card: a dumbapple.</p><p>“Join me, Sephiroth,” he said, in a tone oddly gentle, like they were sitting side-by-side sharing a campfire in the jungles of Wutai. “Help me. Your cells can cure the degradation. And then, we can do exactly what we were created to do.”</p><p>In that moment, Sephiroth saw it, reflected in the purple hues of the forbidden fruit. The same image from his dream, coiling in his skin like a memory of a life lived long ago. An unrelenting, blazing fire, crashing down on the Planet. The earth scorched, the air suffocated, the souls snuffed out in the deadly wind. The meteor, shattering Gaia’s surface, ripping through its core, its heart, its soul. The wasteland, the edge of absolutely nothing, that would be left behind.</p><p>
  <em>You are a monster.</em>
</p><p>Was this the only way?</p><p>Was this his destiny? To take a bite of the apple and fall?</p><p>Did he have a choice?</p><p>Was this what he wanted?</p><p>Was this all he would feel?</p><p>And then, suddenly, quietly, like a lilting lullaby breaking through the fear of the night, a whispered promise underneath a starry sky, a gentle reminder.</p><p>
  <em>I promise you. I’ll never leave you.</em>
</p><p>No.</p><p>He knew what he wanted. He knew what he felt. Monsters did not feel this way. Monsters did not wake up to soft sunflower locks and bright blue eyes. They did not fall asleep to lazy kisses and whispered sweet nothings. The did not get nervous over meeting nice mothers who crafted even nicer homecooked meals. They did not roll their eyes at idiotic pranks or silly quips or mountains of paperwork. They did not experience heartbreak at the sight of lost friends.</p><p>And they certainly did not think about trying again to save them.     </p><p>Sephiroth opened his eyes, pinned Genesis down with his stare. Slowly, he took the fruit out of Genesis’s hands, turning it over in his palm. The last time he had held a dumbapple was in Angeal’s apartment, when the man himself had recruited him in an effort to make fresh cider. Sephiroth remembered how plump the fruits felt in his hands as he peeled the skins, remembered how sweet the juice bubbling on the stove had tasted. It was supposed to be a surprise for Genesis’s birthday; they had bottled their creation and hid it in the back of Sephiroth’s fridge. But they never got the chance to share it, because a few days later, Genesis’s shoulder was injured, and the wheel of fate turned painfully on.</p><p>Yet, it was here. A chance, however small, to break the cycle.</p><p>“Alright,” Sephiroth said, the words leaving him almost before he could fully register their sound. “I’ll help you find a cure. But on two conditions. First, you release Cloud.”</p><p>There was a flicker in Genesis’s eyes then, genuine surprise, as if he had not expected Sephiroth to be so calm, so composed. The man recoiled backward, suspicious, uncertain, though his pride prevented such notions from directly showing on his face. “That was a given. Fine. But tell me, what is your second?”</p><p>Sephiroth fixed his gaze, kept it steady, kept it level.</p><p>“End this pursuit of revenge. Join me instead. Make a different choice.”</p><p>Whatever spell the dangerous man had cast before was now broken. The line of fire cutting through the platform, separating Sephiroth from Zack, began to fade. Around them, the darkness invading the atmosphere dissipated, and clarity started to settle. There was only one source of tension, one pressure point, one thread pulled taut and tight. Genesis shifted his eyes downward, closed them, bowed his head, and in that motion, Sephiroth saw the vestiges of a great man, one that had been beaten down by the lies that he had been told, by the loss of his strength, by the death of his closest friend. He saw the suffering they had all shared, the injustice, the greed, the cruelty. He saw the understandable rage, and the wish for something to change, for something to end.</p><p>Maybe, just maybe, Genesis could see that there could be hope for something better. There just had to be a world left for that hope to remain real.</p><p>Finally, the man lifted his head and looked at Sephiroth, directly and inscrutably. “I see now. You’ve changed,” Genesis whispered, as he stepped backward, once, twice, three times, the distancing growing, yearning, pulling, intensifying. When he returned to where he had started, standing next to the pod Cloud was caged in, Genesis stopped, paused, and raised his hand to the lever controlling the mako input on the side, allowed his fingertips to ghost over the metal.</p><p>Sephiroth inhaled. Waited. Hoped. Prayed.</p><p>And then, it all broke apart.</p><p>“If it takes this sacrifice for you to see the truth, then so be it.”</p><p>It happened fast, before either Sephiroth or Zack could even react. In one moment, Genesis broke the handle at its base, permanently securing the setting and sending more and more mako gushing into the pod. And in the next, his fiery fist welded down the container’s lock, sealing the metal egg shut and keeping its victim trapped helplessly inside. As if on cue, the liquid surged upward, fully engulfing a terrified Cloud in its burning grasp. Those blue eyes locked on Sephiroth’s green through the small window, and when Sephiroth saw the despair, the plea, the tears, his heart shattered completely.</p><p>There it was, the evidence, the proof, that he had tried once more, and he had failed. He had failed to heed his training, Hojo's warning. He had let his sentiment get the better of him.</p><p>Now, Cloud was paying the price for his mistake.</p><p>It was enough to destroy the logic, the discipline, the restraint, the control, to awaken the anger that had been simmering inside, the destruction that Sephiroth had once only wielded only in his mind. Whatever wisdom he had drawn from, whatever platitudes he had recited to himself – they all broke, scattering in his skull like piercing edges of broken glass. What use did he have for them now? What good had being merciful and human brought him?</p><p>No. No more. There was nothing but the rage, nothing but the fury. Nothing but the hunger to kill. </p><p>When he looked into Genesis’s eyes next, his vision had turned completely red.</p><p>
  <em>(Perhaps he was a monster after all).</em>
</p><p>“Indeed. So be it,” Sephiroth said. Then, he brandished his blade and charged.</p><p>---</p><p>Zack was never the smartest guy in the room, but he had enough wits to be able to tell when he was way over his head. That feeling had started to sink in, all throughout Genesis’s barrage of words at Sephiroth, as he watched the General sway and stumble, desperately cradle his head in his hands. But it did not hit home until Sephiroth’s last ditch attempt to get Genesis to reconsider went up in literal flames, until the man flipped a switch and transformed from calculating, cautious tactician to straight up feral warrior.</p><p>He had never seen Sephiroth fight like that before. Usually, the man fought with his head, sought the quickest and most efficient route, the one or two blows that would end the battle. But what Zack witnessed instead was true rage, the slices of that terrifying sword flying through the air, over and over, all erratic, all unpredictable. There was no precision, no thought. Sephiroth did not just want to kill Genesis. He wanted to <em>destroy</em> him.</p><p>The shock of it, of Sephiroth charging through the air, of him and Genesis crashing together, smashing through the rightmost wall and into another area of the reactor, was nearly enough to make Zack forget what he needed to do right now. But it only took him a second to remember. And when he did, he sprinted to the pod, scanned the metal structure for something, anything, that would break the thing open. Unfortunately, Genesis had been thorough, in trashing both the mako-control and welding the steel lock closed. There was no finesse that would free his friend, no trick up his sleeve that would magically save the day.</p><p>If that was the case, then Zack would resort to brute force, even if it resulted in shattering every bone in his hand.</p><p>Inside, he could see Cloud panicking. The blond had his palms pressed against the glass window, and his brows were knitted together in desperation. Zack lifted the Buster Sword, readied his stance. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a memory flashed, of him on the ground in the middle of a Wutai base, of Angeal cutting down an anti-SOLDIER monster with a single slice, of his mentor’s reassuring smile and kind words.</p><p>(“<em>You’re a little more important than my sword. But just a little.”</em>)</p><p>He tried his best to mimic that smile now. “Okay, Cloud. Help is on the way.”</p><p>But instead of gratitude, or hope, Cloud’s eyes only widened in more fear. The index finger of one of those hands extended, to jab at the glass, to point, to warn. And though Zack registered the motion, he still would have missed the message, had it not been for the hot, wet breath of something against the back of his neck. He caught the reflection in the glass. A green-eyed, twisted creature. Large, looming, human and inhuman. The monster, that had been laying on the platform. Except, it was not dead. It was very much alive.</p><p>And it was also very, very hungry.</p><p>The claw that swiped at him, that sent him flying to the other side of the room, was bigger than his torso. Zack felt his back hit the metal wall, heard his bones crack at the contact, and the pain of the impact was almost too much that he nearly lost consciousness. Somewhere along the way, the Buster Sword had fallen, clattering to the ground at the foot of the stairs. But that was a minor detail at the moment. Particularly now that the monster had set its roaring gaze on him once more, crossing over the platform toward him, like an apex predator stepping to its trapped, doomed prey.</p><p><em>Ah shit</em>, Zack’s brain worthlessly supplied. <em>Are you seriously going to go down like this?</em></p><p>After everything – the mission in Wutai, Banora, falling through the Sector Five plate, Aerith, Modeoheim, Angeal, Cloud, Junon, Sephiroth – was this what his life would boil down to? Another friend that he would fail to save?</p><p>He had once declared, to Lazard (another man on his ever-growing list of dead people) that his dream was to become a hero. He had been so hopeful, so optimistic, so naïve then.</p><p>And now…and now…</p><p>“Zack!” someone called, from the entrance of the reactor. He could barely turn his head, but he saw it, the flash of dark hair, the crimson eyes. There was Tifa, attempting to lift the Buster Sword in her two small hands, defying everything about her gender, her stature, her unenhanced state. Once again, Zack could not help but wonder if there was something special in the Nibelheim water that made these kids something awesome to behold. But more than that, it reminded him that people of Gongagan stock were not something to scoff at either. At the very least, for the pride of his family and his hometown, he could not let himself be shown up like this.</p><p>The Lieutenant focused all his energy to the materia in his bracer, let the lightning build up in strength, until it started to crackle the very air around him. Then, he let go, the shock barreling through the monster, piercing through the tough hide of its upper body, and summoning a horrendous howl of pain in response. The creature jerked backward, clutching the gaping wound blossoming on its shoulder as it crashed to the ground and spasmed in the shockwave.</p><p>Almost. But not quite.  </p><p>In the brief reprieve, Zack forced himself to rise. He yelled, “Use the sword. Get Cloud. Go.”</p><p>The girl’s eyes flickered to the pod, to Cloud, and she did not need to be told twice. With a grunt, Tifa lifted the blade and charged up the stairs, slamming the sharp end of the sword into the metal. It gave way, but only slightly, and Zack could see the vibrations of the blow jolting pain straight up her arm. But Tifa did not let go; instead, without another second of hesitation, she swung her arms back and tried again and again. The third time, the contact cut through, enough for a small gash to start forming, enough for the mako to begin squeezing out of the pod and onto the platform below.</p><p>Finally. A literally tiny bit of hope. Zack would have yelped out in joy if he were not supposed to be focused on something else right now.</p><p>Across the way, the monster began to regain itself, scrambling back up and growling all the while. When it opened its eyes, the pupils immediately dilated and fixed on Zack, the rage, the focus, the hunger, the anger, all clear, all evident, all unavoidable now. The beast howled its intent, its cries echoing off the steel walls of the chamber, shaking the ground beneath them like an earthquake. And then, without another warning, it darted forward in a gangly, ugly mess of bitter blood and marled limbs and screeching noises.</p><p>Once upon a time, Zack Fair was a nobody from a nowhere village, who was wet behind the ears and hardly knew his ass from his face. In some ways, he was still that boy, that puppy, staring up at the steel plate with absolute awe and belief. But things had changed. Happy things. Sorrowful things. He had grown up. He had survived. Every challenge he had been thrown, every chaotic situation he had landed in, every time he had been way over his head, he found a way to make it through.</p><p>Because that was what heroes were supposed to do.  </p><p>Zack stepped forward. He lifted one hand, another lightning spell dancing in his fingertips, a smirk on his lips. “Alright, buddy. Let’s dance.”</p><p>---</p><p>For a moment, Cloud was floating, boneless and unfeeling. Or was he maybe flying, listless and empty. Or perhaps this was what drowning was supposed to feel like. Whatever the truth, when he felt the liquid seep through his lips, up his nose, into his body, the mako seemed to do more than just steal his breath. It broke down the sharp pangs of anxiety that had been attacking his heart. It collapsed his limbs and made his muscles feel heavy and numb. There was no control and there was none of the panic. Suddenly, as if Cloud had just blinked, there was nothing but a weirdly suffocating sense of peace.  </p><p>But then, the feeling vanished. The next thing Cloud knew, he was on his hands and knees atop the metal floor of the reactor, spitting out green liquid that had been trapped in his throat. A hand was rubbing soothing circles against his back, whispering words and offering a calm and wonderfully familiar presence.</p><p>“Tifa?” he managed to garble out, in between coughs.</p><p>Tifa smiled, her relief painfully evident. She pulled her touch away, and Cloud could see now how much her arms were shaking. “Oh,” she whispered, breathless and soft. And then, with the crises now averted, she added in a voice much more determined, sharper, “You know, I thought you promised that you’d be rescuing me and not the other way around.”</p><p>He could have laughed, almost did. Instead, Cloud looked down at the mako that was pooling around him, and tried to focus, tried to regain feeling again, tried to reorient to the situation. His mind shuffled through the key pieces – waking up at the reactor, Genesis and his threats, Sephiroth and his breaking point, Zack and his attack.</p><p>Oh, Gaia. Zack.</p><p>“A little help over here, please!”</p><p>Lightning blasted through the air, raising the hair on Cloud’s arms. Quickly, he and Tifa turned their attention toward the source of the magic. On the level below them, Zack was still there, still fighting, still dancing around the monster’s limbs. The Lieutenant was sporting a large cut on his shoulder and his skin was slightly ashen in a telltale sign of mana exhaustion. But despite Zack’s state, it appeared that the monster was the one worse off, with its burning and cracked flesh, with its gaping and growing wounds. It was running out of energy, running out of time. It only needed one final push, one final encouragement, to bring it to its end.</p><p>And Cloud would be happy to oblige. He reached behind Tifa, for the Buster Sword she had dropped, and channeled all of his frustration about the day, about his kidnapping, about Genesis, about being nearly drowned in mako, into the muscles of his legs and arms. Then, quickly, decisively, he jumped.</p><p>The sound the blade made when it crushed the skill was like a crack of a whip, the steel slicing through the hard bone and into the brain matter underneath. In that instant, the monster released another shriek, so loud and so deep, it trembled through the metal, through Cloud’s arms, through his chest. But the blond kept pushing down, willing the sword’s edge to carve deeper and deeper. It was only when the creature shuddered its last breath that he relented, pulling up on the sword and flipping backward to stand beside Zack, to watch with his friend as the monster’s corpse finally collapsed to the ground.  </p><p>A beat, as they stared at the beast, cautious, breathless. Around them, the havoc and the creaking steel of the reactor began to quiet, swallowed by the mountain wind. Somehow, in the course of the morning, the main chamber had transformed from an orderly row of mako containers into a disorderly scene of calamity – damaged metal, exposed wiring, ruptured walls, broken stairs. More than a few of the pods had also been dented, though they mercifully did not spill open their contents. It was as if a tornado and a lightning storm had burst through the space, dueling each other and wrecking all that they could, before suddenly vanishing and leaving nothing behind but their signature, their destruction.  </p><p><em>Well</em>, Cloud bitterly noted, <em>the reactor was in need of repairs now.</em></p><p>Beside him, Zack sank down to the ground, a hand on his chest to help steady his breathing. “Let’s never do that again,” he said, with an exaggerated groan of relief.</p><p>“Agreed,” Cloud replied. He stooped down and released his grip on the Buster Sword, placing the blade next to its owner. “Thank you,” he added, quietly, softly.</p><p>Zack smiled. “Honestly, we both know who saved our asses today, and it wasn’t me.”</p><p>At that, Cloud looked over to Tifa, who remained seated on the level above them. Though her expression portrayed calm, portrayed composure, he could see that her hands were shaking. Still, she offered him a smile, which Cloud returned easily, gratefully.</p><p><em>Thank you,</em> he mouthed.</p><p>She nodded. <em>You’re welcome.</em></p><p>It was a rare, good moment. But the respite was short-lived. From some floor beneath their feet, the echo of clashing blades resounded, the singing of powerful magic ricocheting up the pipelines of the reactor. Immediately, Cloud to recognize the source, and it was not because of any logic. He simply could sense it through that tether in his mind – the sheer anger, the bitter betrayal, the terrible rage. He could feel <em>Sephiroth,</em> and instead of all the warmth that surged through Cloud whenever he thought of the man, there was an unsettling, unrelenting chill. It made every hair on his skin stand up on edge, made his stomach turn, made his chest tighten. It made his blood freeze, his bones turn to ice, even more so than the cold air that was sweeping into the reactor chamber from the open door. It felt so familiar and so foreign, so real and so much like a nightmare. It was Sephiroth, but it wasn’t Sephiroth. At the very least, it was not the same man that held his hand when he needed it. That kissed him so lovingly. That had forgiven him so easily.</p><p>No, wherever that Sephiroth was, Cloud needed to find him. To save him.</p><p>He did not look back, began sprinting up the stairs, to follow the trail of destruction. As he moved, he heard Tifa and Zack call his name, but Cloud ignored them, ignored the way his bare feet felt numb, how his wet pajamas clung and itched, how his muscles ached, and how his chest throbbed. Quickly, Cloud climbed through the gash in the right wall to a second room, hopped the platform beneath him and rushed down a flight of stairs toward another entryway. It was there that Cloud finally heard them clearly – their swords, their voices. He pushed aside the wrecked metal door and ran forward.</p><p>“Sephiroth!” he called. His heartbeat seemed louder, more frantic. But that was because Cloud knew that nothing – not even drowning in a mako pod, not even the prospect of his own impending death – could frighten him more than this sight.</p><p>In the room that opened before him like a steel stage, there was the silver-haired man, with green eyes slitted in terrifying focus (<em>like that monster’s</em>, but Cloud swiftly nipped the thought before it could take full root). The edge of Sephiroth’s sword was stained with blood, the liquid dripping to the ground in a slow, inexorable beat, as the man <em>(demon)</em> stalked toward his target. And at the other end of the stage was the prey, broken and unarmed. Genesis’s wing had nearly torn to shreds, his right leg was bent in a jarring and unnatural manner, and the tatters of his coat were painted a fresher red. And yet, somehow, the former SOLDIER was still smirking, almost laughing. An actor, ready to deliver his last lines, ready to take his triumphant final bow.</p><p>Cloud’s breath hitched. “Sephiroth!” he tried again.</p><p>Whether either party heard him, there was no indication. Once again, Genesis spoke, casting another curse. “My friend,” he began, forcing himself to sit upright, to meet his destiny (<em>to seal Sephiroth’s</em>), “The fates are cruel.”</p><p>Sephiroth took one step and another. He said nothing, mouth pressed into a tight line.</p><p>“Please, stop!” Cloud cried out.</p><p>Genesis pressed onward, grinned defiantly, even as a line of blood dribbled from the corner of his lips. “There are no dreams. No honor remains.”</p><p>Masamune was in the air, glinting green from the light of the mako bubbling all around them.</p><p>“Sephiroth!”</p><p>“The arrow has left the bow of the goddess.”</p><p>The seconds that followed were quick and imprecise, so much so that Cloud would be hard pressed to remember what happened at all. All he knew in that moment was that he conjured up every last bit of energy, all of his speed, into his legs, and charged. He had expected pain, the tearing of his flesh, the kind of relentless death that only a sword like Masamune could bring. He had hoped for the mercy of a fast end.</p><p>But nothing came.</p><p>Cloud peeled open his eyes, blinked away the panic. There was a slight stinging in his neck, like a papercut, a nick from something sharp. He lifted his hand to the source of the pain, and his fingers came away with a slight sheen of red. He was hurt. He had been hurt. But he wasn’t dead. And neither was Genesis, who was still at his feet, his mouth twisted in a frown. Grim-faced. Disappointed. Which meant that –</p><p>He turned around. Sephiroth was on his knees before him, his hands empty and trembling. Masamune had vanished, and the air, once thick with magic and rage, had thinned into wisps of regret. The man’s face was shielded by the curtain of his long hair, but Cloud did not need to see his expression to know what Sephiroth was feeling. It was there, in the tears that were dropping onto the black leather gloves. It was there, reverberating through their mysterious connection with so much force that it made Cloud’s chest tighten, nearly made him buckle to the ground.</p><p>But he could not give, not now.</p><p>“Cloud! Cloud!”</p><p>Once again, the blond ignored the voices of Zack and Tifa, the two now rushing down to join them from the corridor. There was only one person Cloud cared about, and he knelt down to move closer to him.</p><p>“Sephiroth, it’s okay,” Cloud said, and then reached forward.</p><p>But his hand only brushed the man’s shoulder before Sephiroth flinched away, his green eyes glowing with something that Cloud had never seen before. It was not just fear. It was not just sorrow. It was not just regret. This was far more sinister, and far more heartbreaking.</p><p>It was <em>hopelessness.</em></p><p><em>No, </em>Cloud thought. He lifted his other hand, tried to cradle that face that he cared for so deeply, tried to push back the rising tide, but Sephiroth only kept pulling back, pulling away. Each second of distance, each lack of touch, it threatened to feed into the torment that Cloud knew was budding in the man’s mind. Because those eyes (<em>a monster’s eyes</em>) foretold of a destiny that they had feared, of a world on fire, of an endless destruction, of a truth they had tried to run away from, of a fate they had attempted to escape. Only now, edging in the green, was a sense of desperate resignation, of abject despair, of dire acceptance.</p><p>And if that were true –</p><p>
  <em>(“You cut me down, and you set me free.”)</em>
</p><p>“Now you finally see, old friend,” murmured Genesis. With a muffled grunt, the redhead rose from the floor, his wing beating once, beating twice, in the solemn air. “If you seek more truth, go to the manor.”</p><p>Zack began to rush forward, to intercept. “No, wait!”</p><p>But Genesis was off again, in a scatter of red and black, darting over them and through the cracks and crevices of the broken reactor. Cloud did not watch him go. The blond pushed away the chaos, pushed away Zack’s commentary and Tifa’s confusion, push away his own anxiety. He tried to focus, tried to think of what to say, what to do, to stop what he feared would be the inevitable.</p><p>
  <em>(“Did you find me to kill you? Is that why you trained me? To make me your murderer?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t know.”)</em>
</p><p>“Sephiroth,” Cloud said again, his blue eyes bright with unshed tears. “Please look at me. Please.”</p><p>But the man did not. Instead, in the deafening silence, Cloud watched as Sephiroth buried his broken face into his blood-stained hands.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oof. </p><p>Alright, I swear, I'm sorry for the two straight chapters of not-so-happy things. As a tease for next week's installment, I promise to make up for it - as Cloud and Sephiroth find ways to express their feelings for each other with more than just words and promises :)</p><p>Hope to see you again next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cloud and Sephiroth express their true feelings for each other, in words and in actions.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back, everyone! Once again, just want to express how grateful I am to you all for your support. I cannot believe this fic has nearly 15K hits! For the handful of those hits that came from people who enjoyed the story, really, thank you so so so much!</p><p>I know the last few chapters have been infuriating, so I'm here to provide you all with a bit of relief. This chapter is basically eight thousand words of Sefikura goodness - with a bit of spice at the end. Hence why I had to update the tags and the rating for this fic. </p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p><p>Chapter Specific Warnings: Continued discussion of suicidal ideation, mentions of child abuse and human experimentation. Oh, and sickeningly sweet fluff, and a love-making scene at the end. (If the latter is not your cup of tea, please feel free to skip the last section!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rain was falling, the soft patter echoing through the air, the tiny droplets streaming down the windowpanes. Though the clock in the inn lobby only read a few minutes past two in the afternoon, the shadowed skies rendered the day entirely too dark, the space coated over with a muggy shade of grey. The gloomy atmosphere and the lack of sunlight all added to the tiredness Cloud felt – and had been feeling. It sank deep into his bones, weighed down his body and his mind and his eyes, and despite the mug of coffee that steamed warmly in front of him, he knew no amount of caffeine would be enough to wash away this bitter exhaustion.</p><p>It seemed to be a shared feeling, because even Zack appeared more tired than usual. The Lieutenant was sitting across from him, gazing out the window with an unguarded, worried expression. It was the same hardened stare, the same slight purse of the lips, that had been plastered on the man’s face from the moment they had left the reactor. And it had remained there, marring Zack’s handsome and normally cheery visage, every day since.</p><p>But who could blame Zack for worrying? Cloud himself was now far past that point. Because Sephiroth had not said a single word during their entire climb down the mountain. He had ignored Tifa’s questions, brushed aside Zack’s attempts at humor, pulled away from Cloud’s comfort. Instead of taking the sensible route – debriefing, regrouping, recuperating – the moment they arrived back in the village proper, Sephiroth had disappeared into the crooked halls of Shinra Manor. At the start, that had been (begrudgingly) fine: Cloud needed to spare a few hours to soothe his mother’s furious concern, and both he and Zack knew the man well enough by now to understand that he often required a little bit of time to process his thoughts and feelings. Based on what had just transpired in the reactor, there was certainly more than a small amount for the man to work through. So, in the end, they had decided to leave Sephiroth alone, for just a few hours, for just that single night.  </p><p>Four days later, it was clear that was a bad miscalculation.</p><p>Sephiroth did not come back to the inn in the morning. He did not return the next day either, not even when Cloud tried to prod him out with the prospect of another homecooked meal, not even when the blond had let his fear and his anger momentarily flare up and had verbally threatened to drag the General out with his own two hands. But in response to the frustration, Sephiroth did not fight back, nor did he yield. In fact, he did something much worse: he had simply glanced up at Cloud with green eyes hollow and empty. There had been no anger, no malice, no annoyance, no fear. Just nothing. It was as if the man Cloud knew, that had once kissed him with such fire and hunger, had been replaced by a ghost, a shell, a husk. The blankness of those eyes spoke to a deep desperation, like an endless trench buried in a storming sea. It asked, begged, only for one thing, and that was for a freedom that Cloud was not prepared to give.</p><p>
  <em>(“Did you find me to kill you? Is that why you trained me? To make me your murderer?”)</em>
</p><p>It had been too much to bear. Cloud had retreated, left Sephiroth among the stack of dusty books, slouching on the ground underneath a ceiling light that flickered on and off from years of disuse. Once he returned to the inn, provided his miserable update, Zack had launched into the usual reassurances. Said that everything would be alright. Explained that Sephiroth probably just needed a bit more time. Insisted that he would emerge from that haunted place and return. All they needed to do, all they really could do, was pray and wait.</p><p>But Cloud was never really good at waiting, and waiting itself was starting to look like another mistake. Because after a third day of sitting in the lobby and watching the window for any signs of silver locks, after another night of sleeplessly tossing about with dreadful nightmares, after another twenty-four hours – nothing at all had changed.</p><p>And in some small, frightened part of Cloud’s mind, he was beginning to wonder if it ever would.</p><p>Now, the blond closed his eyes, pressed his face against his arms, as if trying to physically push down the urge to sob. This was too much. It was too much. The powerlessness, the confusion, the doubt. He wanted to be there for Sephiroth, to help take away his pain, but Cloud had not the first clue how to rescue the man from the darkness that threatened to take him. This was more than just a misunderstanding following an emotional kiss. This was more than just unexplained dreams with garbled messages. This was the very core of Sephiroth’s existence, the cursed life that had been inflicted upon him even before he was born – and Cloud, for all his stubbornness and all his newly acquired strength, was simply a boy from a backwater village. What could he do, and what hope did he have, for saving a man like Sephiroth?</p><p>Except for the only option that had been laid out for them from the start.</p><p>
  <em>(“You cut me down, and you set me free.”)</em>
</p><p><em>No,</em> Cloud thought. <em>Never. </em>There had to be another way.</p><p>Yet, in spite of the thoughts of his own mind, in spite of the desires of his own soul, his body continued to pulse with panic and doubt. There was no denying it now. No matter what he tried, or how hard he worked to hide it, it was building to a tipping point, budding in his lungs. Finally, as Cloud held his head in his hands, he could not help but let some of it go – in the form of a small, choked noise that slipped from his lips.  </p><p>At the sound, Zack turned away from the window and adopted smile that was just a little strained around the edges. “Hey, I have an idea,” he said, he tried. “It’s supposed to clear up later today. Maybe we can meet up with Tifa and go do some monster hunting in the mountain for training.”</p><p>“I’m not in the mood.”</p><p>The other man released an uneasy breath. “It’s gonna be okay. This is just what Sephiroth does. He’s a workaholic and a nerd and he buries himself in reading.”</p><p>“Yeah, I know,” Cloud lied.</p><p>“He’ll make it through. He’s the toughest and smartest guy we know.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>But it was not okay, and Cloud knew that Zack knew that. The Lieutenant paused, and then, hesitantly, as if trying to decide if this was a mistake or if this would help, he added, “Seph’s done this before. He spent whole days in archives once and came out again. It was after Genesis and Angeal left. He survived, and met you.”</p><p>The facts were an attempt to reassure, to provide past evidence, to mitigate fears. But the reminder of Genesis and Angeal, of what had happened to the two men, of the cruel fate they had fallen to, inadvertently pushed the blond closer to the brink of despair. From some bitter and uncontrolled part of himself, Cloud spat back, “Yeah, well? Just look how that ended.” And underneath, unsaid, but still as painful and still there: <em>Look at who you lost. </em></p><p>Immediately, Zack winced.</p><p>Cloud bit his lip. “Sorry. I just—”</p><p>“You’re worried. I get it. Don’t apologize.”</p><p>“No, I—”</p><p>“Stop, Cloud. Stop.”</p><p>There was an edge to the voice, but it was not harsh, only honest. Zack exhaled, slowly, releasing into the air whatever tension had precariously built between them. He fixed his gaze on Cloud, leaned forward, and said, “I have an important question for you. You should answer it. Still, feel free to punch me in the face if you would rather not.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>Zack asked, “Do you love him?”</p><p>He could have responded, should have. But the four syllables barreled into Cloud with such force that the blond simply sat there, stunned, listening to the soft drizzle, smelling the tartness of the coffee. He felt that unbearable pressure again, crushing his shoulders, squeezing his skull, urging him to run, to hide, to burrow away for relief. Because Zack’s question reminded him of the look on Sephiroth’s face, and how much that brokenness threatened to tear his own heart in half. It was all Cloud could do to push it down – to stay away from that manor and the man that trapped himself in it, out of fear of what could come next. Even then, the distance seemed like a futile effort, because every cell of Cloud’s body was reaching out, yearning, clawing, the itch digging into every cavern within him, the mysterious tether between them wrapping tightly around his skin.  </p><p>And yet, Cloud knew the truth. The longing he felt was more than just the residual effects of Hojo’s experiment. This was deeper. This was truer. Because it had already been there. It had started months ago, even before Junon, had grown with each moment he and Sephiroth had shared. Cloud only became absolutely certain of it when they had kissed by the barn, when they had held hands throughout that wonderful dinner, when he had made his promise and found that he had meant it. There was nothing more that he wanted than to tell Sephiroth the truth, than to say something, than to make the sweet dream a wonderous, beautiful reality. All Cloud needed was the right moment.</p><p>But now, he feared it would never come.</p><p>Tears were starting to sting the corners of his eyes, but the blond resolutely ignored them. He only returned Zack’s stare, hard and strong.</p><p>And without any judgment or condescension, Zack nodded and said, “Okay. Good.”</p><p>“Good?” replied Cloud, incredulity building in his voice. He lifted a hand, wiped away the wetness dripping down his cheeks. “This isn’t good. He’s holed himself up there. He won’t come out. You didn’t see his face. I’m scared that he’ll—”</p><p>“What, hurt you?”</p><p>The blond shook his head fiercely. “No. Not me. Not you. Not anyone else.”</p><p>It was enough, the silence between the words, settling between them thickly like the rain-soaked air. Zack paused, then reached forward, took Cloud’s hand, squeezed it tight. There was a haunted familiarity in his eyes, and for a moment, Cloud recognized the sinking desperation that had shrouded his friend during the return trip from that mission in Modeoheim. But there was something else there, too, flickering beneath the darkness: a determination, a declaration, a belief, that this time, things would be different.</p><p>“It’s good because it means we have hope,” Zack said, in a tone that brokered no disagreement. “Because I know from how he looks at you that he feels the same way.”</p><p>Was that true?</p><p>No, that was a ridiculous question, and Cloud knew it. He knew how Sephiroth felt from the second they had kissed, and from the look on the man’s face the morning they had first woken up together. In that moment, Cloud was arrested by how well happiness seemed to suit Sephiroth, and how much he wanted to try and keep that expression there for as long as possible. Even during those terrible weeks when Cloud had tried to pull away, the feelings were still there, still strong and true – because Sephiroth had remained, willing to sacrifice every part of himself for Cloud’s own safety and happiness. And even now, by staying away, by resigning himself to this end, by holding back the monster that had momentarily flown free in that reactor, Cloud understood what exactly the man was trying to express, in perhaps the only broken way he knew how.</p><p>But he would not let him. Not like this.  </p><p>He looked at Zack, let out a breath, and finally, stood up. There was somewhere he needed to go. Someone he needed to see. Something he needed to say. Something he had to do.</p><p>After all, Cloud had made a promise.</p><p>---</p><p>The world was on fire. He burned inside, with something like hunger, like rage, like pain, like regret. The world was on fire, and he was standing at the center of it, watching the flames scorch across earth and sea and sky, until there was nothing left but the shell of him, all alone in cold and empty universe.</p><p>
  <em>You are a monster.</em>
</p><p>When Sephiroth closed his eyes, all he could see was the end of everything. It brought him terror, to think how nothing, not even the very soul of the Planet, would survive his wrath. But there was a part of him that recognized the relief such a finality brought. Because then, the hollowness of his heart would stop mattering. Because then, the cruelty of the world would be met with a twisted form of justice. Because then, if he had to be alone, it would be by choice.</p><p>
  <em>You are a monster.</em>
</p><p>Sephiroth did not want to believe that, at least not at first. But the evidence bore otherwise. First had been the campaigns in Wutai, the clinical and routine slaying of people and monsters and whatever else Shinra pointed him toward. Now, it was the notes and books and texts sprawled out around him. They provided scientific confirmation of a fact that he already knew: Sephiroth had been created for this purpose. He was not meant to be human, not taught the normal things that people learned, not taught how to care or love or feel. No matter how much he prided himself on his discipline, on his intelligence, on his restraint, that raw, monstrous instinct would always be there, and it would only be a matter of time before the false human mask he wore crumbled and revealed it.</p><p>That had been the truth Genesis wanted to show him. And in dramatic fashion, the man had put his body on the line to illustrate it, and in such a manner that there was no use in denial.</p><p>It had happened so quickly. The higher processes of his brain had shut down, and there had been no thought, no logic, and no hesitation. As soon as Genesis sealed Cloud inside that pod, all had melted away. Sephiroth’s vision had darkened, his mind had shattered, and his hands and legs had simply moved. And they kept moving, over and over, the grunts of pain and the smell of blood only urging him forward. Whatever conscience he might have had, that would have prompted him to stop, reminded him that the man he was going to kill had once been his closest friend – it had been silenced. Everything had been silenced. He did not hear Cloud, nor sensed his approach, not until the blond had rushed across the room and darted in front of him.</p><p>Not until his blade had nearly sliced Cloud in half.  </p><p>Sephiroth had no idea why he had stopped. And while he was grateful that he did, it truthfully did not matter. Once he saw the thin line of blood slipping from the shallow cut on Cloud’s neck, once he felt how terribly close he was to ending the life of the person he considered most important, everything ceased to matter at all. Only a monster would act the way he did. Only a monster would even consider making that choice. It had been so easy, so unwitting, so instinctual, so automatic – like it was exactly what his body was created for. Like it was exactly what his mind desired.</p><p>Like it was exactly what he was born to do.</p><p>When that thought took root, it etched itself permanently into his mind and heart. It kept Sephiroth locked in this manor, pouring through page after page of research. Some part of him was perhaps searching for something, anything, that would contradict Genesis’s words in the reactor, provide him the relief that this was just painful lies. But any hope of that was false, and he knew it. Instead, all Sephiroth found was more evidence of the truth he was trying so desperately to escape.  </p><p>
  <em>Specimen excavated from Northern Crater. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Believed to be an Ancient.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Named Jenova. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Successful implantation of cells in fetus. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Initial tests indicate subject possesses enhanced capabilities.</em>
</p><p>The only discrepancy was that the documents indicated Jenova an Ancient, just as Kunsel and Cissnei had reported. But the fact that Aerith had revealed something different failed to bring Sephiroth any comfort. It only pointed to more questions, the obvious being: <em>what is Jenova?</em> The mystery of his mother’s true nature underscored at the possibility of something more sinister, something darker, something more destructive. And once Sephiroth heard her voice, witnessed the end in his dream, succumbed to the nightmare in the reactor, that possibility became terrifyingly, irrevocably real.</p><p>
  <em>The meteor would descend. The world would shatter. Everything would burn.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is what you must do. To set me free. To set us free.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>This is what you were born to do. </em>
</p><p>He should have been horrified, and he was. But Sephiroth also could not deny the pull. It was there, had always been there, tendrils in his mind, like blurred lampposts lighting the way down a dark path. It had been there in the dreams he had been sent, coded messages that he was just beginning to understand. Because now, he could hear her clearly, whispering his name, seeking his heart, calling him home. Her song was growing louder, the strings that bound him to this destiny drawing tighter. There was no point in fighting it. He knew it would not be long before he answered and fell.</p><p>For what monster could resist its true nature?</p><p>There had been a moment a long time ago, when Sephiroth maybe had hope for something different. He was a child, armed with nothing but a dull training sword that was far too large for his tiny frame, and he was trapped in a room with a hungry coeurl. Nestled behind the glass separating the space from the observing room, Hojo explained that this was a test, that Sephiroth had to kill the beast or suffer being killed himself. At the time, Sephiroth barely understood the concept of death, could not wrap his brain around it (which in hindsight, was likely the point). But he had performed anyway, slaughtered the creature, heard the way its bones cracked, felt heat of the blood as it splattered, watched as the coeurl heaved its last breaths and then dissipated into the Lifestream.</p><p>That was the first life Sephiroth had ever taken.</p><p>Afterwards, his hands would not stop shaking, not even when Gast swept into the room, lifted him up in his arms and carried him out. Sephiroth remembered trembling in that man’s embrace, remembered crying into his lab coat, remembered begging, imploring, asking to not have to do something like that ever again. Gast did not say anything then, only closed his eyes and advised him to stay strong. The professor promised that someday, it would all be over, and then, Sephiroth would be free.</p><p>But Hojo sent him back into that room the very next day.</p><p>No, whatever hope Sephiroth had – it had died then, died every day with every kill he made. There had come a point when he stopped shaking. There had come a point when he stopped crying. There had come a point when he felt nothing at all.</p><p>Sephiroth shut the book in his lap, rested his head against the shelf behind him. Something was stinging his eyes, making them too painful to open, and it took him more than a few moments to recognize what they were. Tears. He was crying, like he had when he was child and pleaded for mercy. Except now, he knew better. Now, there was no Gast making false attempts at comfort, no Angeal or Genesis encouraging him to grasp at whatever straws of freedom were there. There was only that voice in his head, the one that had been calling to him all along. There was no one else. There was never going to be anyone else. There was –</p><p>“Sephiroth?”</p><p>He felt those hands, ungloved and soft, around his face, felt those thumbs stroking away the tears from his cheeks. Cloud was kneeling before him, blue eyes brilliant and tender, and full of everything Sephiroth dared not ask for. And yet, the young man was offering anyway, a sudden burst of beautiful and warm sunlight in the middle of this dark, cold, suffocating room. </p><p>“You should not be here,” the silver-haired man murmured, though he could not pull himself away from that wonderous gaze.</p><p>“I made a promise.”</p><p>He could have laughed, nearly did. “You made that promise to a monster. You do not have to honor that.”</p><p>But instead of leaving, of pulling away, Cloud leaned closer, pressed their foreheads together. Focused. Honest. Unrelenting. It reminded Sephiroth so keenly of the boy that had forgone passing the SOLDIER exam in favor of saving an injured team member, of the young man that kept rising from the training floor mats and insisting on another spar.</p><p>Cloud whispered back, without any hesitation, “No. I made that promise to the man I love. And I fully plan on keeping it.”</p><p>That steel, the blue that shone brighter than the fire that threatened to destroy it – the brilliance cut through that veil that had shrouded everything. It pierced the echoes of the voice, clawed at the edges of his resignation, kindled something warm and enticing in his chest.</p><p>Sephiroth looked into those eyes and let out a shaking breath. “Do you mean that?” he asked, partly because he almost felt like he imagined it.</p><p>“Yes,” Cloud said. “With everything I have. I mean that.”</p><p>And with those words, Sephiroth now found himself willing to surrender to an altogether different power.</p><p>He sank into the embrace, let Cloud’s arms wrap around him tightly. The blond did not let him go, even as he trembled and sobbed, even as he felt himself unraveling. His grip held Sephiroth together, held him strong, held him patiently, held him true. And in that warmth, Sephiroth silently prayed to whatever goddess was out there. This had to be it. This had to be what his life could be like. Because there was nothing more that Sephiroth wanted. Because despite his fear, despite the truth Genesis and Jenova and these books had revealed, despite the darkness in his being, he knew what he felt. Because if there was anything his broken heart could believe in, it was Cloud Strife.</p><p>Because if there was proof that he was capable of something more than just monstrous, it was this.</p><p>Against in that shoulder, with his face buried in tufts of blond spikes, and in a voice that carried every last bit of hope he had, Sephiroth said back, “I love you, too.”</p><p>---</p><p>“I think that’s the last of them.”</p><p>As he spoke, Cloud stepped out from curtain of branches and dropped the black duffel bag into the clearing. There, in the center of the circle of trees, Sephiroth stood, preoccupied with the sight of the firewood and papers and books piled before him. His elegant brows were furrowed, his lips were pressed tight, and he was wringing his wrists in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty, of hesitation.  </p><p>Well, that Cloud could understand. Though this had been Sephiroth’s decision, it was clear that the man no longer trusted himself. But that was alright. Tonight, Cloud would trust for him, just as Sephiroth had for Cloud before.</p><p>The blond reached into the bag and pulled out another stack of crumpled pages, along with the bottle of lighter fluid that he had just bought at the local general store. Above them, the sky had transformed into a mixture of deep violets and blues. It was late. By the time they had exited the basement and walked out into the fresh air, the afternoon rains had ceased, and dusk had started to glint its hues off the side of the mountain. In the hours that followed, while the sun sunk quietly behind the horizon, they had gathered the rest of the documents and collected the bundles of chopped wood from Cloud’s backyard. Now, as evening stretched its dark curtain over the town, the clear lights of the stars and moon peeked brightly through the fabric. The air was cool without being windy, the sounds of nature were pleasantly humming, and something resembling tranquility finally settled in the space.  </p><p>In other words, it was the perfect night for a bonfire.</p><p>Cloud began drizzling the fuel over the pile. After a few seconds, he placed the bottle back down at his feet, turned to the other man, and held out the last of the papers.</p><p>“Do you want to do the honors?” he asked.</p><p>Sephiroth looked at his hands. “I do not know if I can.”</p><p>Cloud said nothing else. He tossed the pages into the stack and lifted his wrist to power up the fire materia in his bracer. A tiny spark flared and ignited the entire pile. Orange and yellow and red danced upward, lighting the clearing and casting lovely shadows across the smooth and marbled planes of Sephiroth’s face. <em>He looks so good,</em> Cloud thought, the feeling folding tight in his chest. Slowly, he shifted closer and leaned over just enough to let his fingers tangle into Sephiroth’s hand. Through that touch, he could feel the way the man trembled and then stilled, and in the closeness, he could hear the quiet but deep breaths Sephiroth released. They were like prayers, the sounds slipping beneath the soft crackling of the flames.</p><p>Minutes passed, peaceful and quiet.</p><p>Finally, Sephiroth spoke. “I used to be afraid of fire,” he said. “It was my least favorite type of magic.”</p><p>The blond thought about what the man must have seen, images of whole villages and whole words rendered to ash. As he watched the way the heat flickered in the air, Cloud replied, “I like fire. Keeps us warm in winter, keeps us safe. Lets us purify. Start anew.”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>Then: “I wonder,” murmured Sephiroth. “Some things cannot be made clean.”</p><p>Gently, Cloud squeezed his hand. “Won’t stop me from trying, anyway.”</p><p>And there it was, the tiny smile, the one that had made Cloud’s heart go aflutter when he had first seen it – standing in Sephiroth’s office, watching the lights of Midgar shine below them like the stars above were doing right now. Sephiroth had turned to face him, his eyes full of the fondness that they knew they both deeply shared.</p><p>“You have a backbone of steel, Cloud. I wish I could say the same.”</p><p>“Well, until you find one of your own, you can borrow mine.”</p><p>Sephiroth dipped his head. “I may need it tomorrow. For when we return to the reactor. I am – afraid of what might happen when I see her.”</p><p>Jenova. The specimen, the source, the monster. Her name was all over the papers that were now curling into the fire and vanishing into ash. Cloud did not ask what Sephiroth had read, figured that the man would tell him when he was ready. But he experienced enough to understand that whatever the truth, it was probably too terrible for words.</p><p>In the end, however, it did not matter. Even if Sephiroth never told him anything, Cloud found that he did not need to know. Because he knew Sephiroth. He knew the man standing next to him, in all his strength and all his weakness, in all his happiness and all his pain. There was nothing that could have been revealed that would change what Cloud felt for him. And there would be nothing, no unearthly or inhumane existence that could be hiding in the reactor, that would alter what Cloud knew was the most important truth of them all.</p><p>He whispered it once more. “I love you.”</p><p>Sephiroth exhaled. He released Cloud’s hand, took hold of his waist instead, and pressed a small kiss onto his forehead.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>---</p><p>When the last of the papers were burned away, when nothing was left but ash and dying cinders, they put out the remains and returned home. Claudia was waiting with a generously sized meal, though both Strifes insisted Sephiroth make use of the shower before he could join them (<em>“You haven’t bathed in days and you have too much hair and it shows.”</em>)</p><p>Dinner was wonderful. Claudia had been curious, but she did not push. Instead, she kept the conversation focused on her son, letting the ebbs and flows of their easy voices calm like a sweet lullaby. It had taken some time, but eventually, Sephiroth could feel the tide of the panic start to recede. He could feel his heartbeat slowing, his breaths softening, his heightened paranoia disengaging. And as the warmth of the food and the nearby fireplace drifted over his body, something else – something he had not expected to ever feel again – began to blossom in his core.</p><p>
  <em>Home.</em>
</p><p>Sephiroth recognized the feeling from that long fleeting dream, the one he had the night when he first confessed the truth to Cloud. This was home. Home was standing next to the blond washing the dishes and stacking them on the drying rack. Home was wiping down the kitchen counters, stifling quiet smiles while watching Cloud fiddle with the fancy coffee machine in a botched attempt to make hot chocolate. Home was Claudia offering him extra blankets and soft pillows, telling him that he was welcome to spend the night and sleep in the living room, and bidding them pleasant dreams with a playful wink as she retired to her own bed upstairs.</p><p>Home was this, sitting on fluffed quilts with Cloud in his lap, listening to the blond talk and laugh and kissing him again and again until they were both nearly breathless.</p><p>And then, in the spaces between their lips and their words, Cloud paused. Those blue eyes shone brightly, vivid against the flickering embers.</p><p>“My Ma is upstairs,” he said.</p><p>Sephiroth tilted his head. “I know that.”</p><p>Another pause. Cloud chewed his lip. Suddenly, he shifted off of Sephiroth, stood up, began gathering some of the blankets in his arms. “Get your coat.”</p><p>There was a sharpness to his voice, and it set Sephiroth on edge. “What’s wrong?” he asked, reaching forward, grasping at the blond’s hand. Through the touch, Sephiroth could feel it, the nervousness, the anticipation, but it was not entirely negative. It was akin to the exhilaration just before an excellent spar, something joyous and thrilling. But that observation only made Sephiroth even more confused.</p><p>Cloud swooped down, planted a light kiss on the top of Sephiroth’s head. He said, “Just trust me, okay?”</p><p>And because Sephiroth did, he responded, “Okay.”</p><p>The blond tiptoed up the stairs, his bare feet silent enough that only Sephiroth would have been able to pick up on his movements. After a few seconds, during which the silver-haired man got up and retrieved his coat from the rack near the front door, Cloud returned. He was wrapped in a jacket of his own, another folded blanket and pillow tucked under his right arm. As the blond descended the final step, he extended his free hand, and glanced upward at Sephiroth from beneath his eyelashes.</p><p>“Come with me,” Cloud whispered.</p><p>Without pause, Sephiroth accepted the invitation. He curled his fingers into that open hand and allowed the smaller man to lead him out the door and into the backyard. The ground was cool against their feet, the night breeze soothing in its gentle rush. Above them, the moon was clear in a way it never was in Midgar, its silver light shining downward, sparkling the dew on the sparse patches of grass tickling their toes. It took only a few quick strides for them to arrive at the barn. Once there, Cloud released Sephiroth and reached for the lock on the door.</p><p>“What are we doing here?” Sephiroth asked.</p><p>There was a soft click, as the latch came undone. Cloud pushed open the door and smiled. “You’ll see.”</p><p>Sephiroth followed him inside. Cloud flicked on a switch to the left of the entrance, activating the strings of lights strewn in the rafters above them. It looked a bit like starlight, illuminating the space in a soft, warm glow. Against the right most wall, there were shelves that housed more firewood, and toward the back, there was a futon, covered in a paint-stained tarp. But those details were not what caught Sephiroth’s attention. Instead, his eyes locked immediately on the desk in the left corner, upon which there were stacked notebooks and magazines and photos, tossed messily all over the dark wood.</p><p>“I used to spend a lot of time here alone as a brooding kid. It was like my sanctuary,” said Cloud. He walked to the back, pulled aside the tarp and dropped the blankets he had brought on top of the futon. Grimacing a little at the dust, he added, “Sorry about the mess.”</p><p>On that, Sephiroth did not comment. As Cloud continued to set up the rest of the blankets and pillows, the silver-haired man crossed the threshold, stopping in front of the desk. His eyes danced over the random collection of items, the motorcycle manuals, the newspaper clippings, the photographs, the sketches. There were articles on the Wutai War and about SOLDIER. There were drawings of Claudia and Tifa and some of the other villagers. And then, as if he had been unknowing looking for it, there was a piece of paper, jutting out from underneath one of the books. He lifted his fingers and reached for it, tugging it free slowly, like one would extract a petal from a flower. When the piece finally came free, what Sephiroth saw left him breathless.</p><p>It was him. In charcoal pencil lines that had smudged from the passage of time, was a drawing of Sephiroth. His bangs were shorter than they were now, his hair pulled up like it used to be at some point in his SOLDIER career, and his expression was solemn and contemplative. The sight of himself, through Cloud’s eyes, was jarring. Because Sephiroth could not recall looking this vulnerable, this <em>human</em>, in any of the public images ever taken from of him. There was something in the way Cloud drew the eyes that felt true and real, even down to the curl of the lashes. It was more than just an accurate likeness. It was a sign that somewhere out there, in the vast and often cruel world, someone had looked past the façade that Shinra created and seen <em>him</em>, in a way that few ever saw before.  </p><p>He turned to look at Cloud, who was now readying a tiny fire in a small standing pit.</p><p>“When did you draw this?” Sephiroth asked.</p><p>Cloud took a moment to cast the spell, then glanced back at Sephiroth. Those eyes moved down to the paper in his hands, and immediately, the blond’s face flushed red. “I – I don’t remember. Sorry. I told you already that I was a fan,” he stammered.</p><p>“Was?”</p><p>Cloud rolled his eyes. “You dork. Come here, please.”</p><p>Smirking, Sephiroth dropped the sketch back on the desk, strode over to Cloud. He waited. Watched. Cloud looked back at him. One of the blond’s hands rose and then rested against Sephiroth’s chest, as if trying to feel the heartbeat underneath the skin. To check if this moment, and everything that would come after, was real. But even if it were all a dream, it did not matter. They had tonight. After everything, they finally had tonight. For now, that was more than enough.</p><p>And so, Sephiroth kissed him.</p><p>There was no mistaking the hunger now. It simmered between them, shooting sparks like an electrical current between light brushes of skin. Cloud pressed forward, nipped at his lips and pulled at the lapels of Sephiroth’s coat, nearly tipping them over in his eagerness. When Sephiroth gave in and slipped his tongue inside that open, wanting mouth, the soft moan that then escaped the blond’s lips went straight to his groin, and dragged Sephiroth to the edge of his restraint. This was the familiar dance they had shared over the past few months, the crescendo, the sweet temptation, the beat that built with each touch. But tonight, something was different. Somehow, Sephiroth knew – that this time, when he asked the question, Cloud would forgo the usual hesitation, the anxious fear. He knew that this time, Cloud would say yes.</p><p>That did not stop Sephiroth from asking anyway. He pulled back, pressed their foreheads together, gazed into those eyes, full of yearning the same way he knew his own were.</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>The blue was so dazzling, so captivating, almost enough to make Sephiroth miss the reply.</p><p>Cloud leaned back in and whispered, “Yes.”</p><p>---</p><p>When his brain finally had a moment to regain its capacity for thought, the first thing that filtered through Cloud’s mind was that his teenage self would probably be dead now, out of an overwhelming mixture of mortification, arousal, and disbelief. After all, how many times had he sat in this very barn, flipping through newspapers and magazines, searching for any pictures, any tidbits, about the man he was currently with? How often did he dream about meeting Sephiroth? How often did he imagine what it would be like to be the man’s friend, to earn his respect (and, if he were being honest, maybe something more)?</p><p>Yet, in all those daydreams, he could have never had imagined this.</p><p>Here they were, lying on the spread out blankets, clothes tossed aside, bodies warmed by the small fire and by the heat pulsing between them, and exchanging kisses and touches with alternating tenderness and fervor. Sephiroth was above him, lavishing attention along his neck and down his chest, teeth grazing just enough to leave tiny marks. Each touch drove Cloud nearly wild, drawing out hazy breaths and wanton noises from his lips. He was torn between wanting to rush headlong into the feeling that was rising in his body, and the need to make this moment last forever.</p><p>But Sephiroth seemed to be in no rush at all. The man moved languidly, almost methodically. It was as if he were trying to commit to memory all the little reactions Cloud now freely gave him, if he kissed there, if he brushed his fingers over here – his eyes were studying, full of intent and care. It was so clear, how much Sephiroth wanted to make this moment perfect, and the outpouring of affection only added to the intensity, made every inch of contact feel like fireworks, like a perfect chord struck on a guitar, like everything Cloud had ever wanted.</p><p>And oh, Gaia. How badly he wanted this. More than that, Cloud needed this. Every cell in his body called out to Sephiroth, ached so badly that he almost believed he would die without the man’s touch. Those long fingers continued to trace teasing paths all along Cloud’s torso, up his thighs, between his legs. It was not long before Cloud was shaking with something much greater than any nerves he might have had about his first time. Frantic pleas, whispered desire, nonsensical words all slipped out of him. His hips bucked, his back arched, his body moved all of its own accord, chasing the feel of Sephiroth’s fingertips, the tender warmth of the man’s kiss. He could not control it and did not want to. All he wanted was for Sephiroth to take him apart and build him back again and again, for the man to hold him so close that they would melt in the heat together, for the tide that had been rising in his core to finally crest and carry him away.</p><p>“Seph,” Cloud breathed, begged, pleaded. “Please. Please.”</p><p>The man paused, and the loss of warmth was nearly enough to make Cloud sob. But even then, Sephiroth did not move. He kept his eyes locked into Cloud’s own, waiting and wanting. “Are you sure?” he asked again, and in the gaze, Cloud caught the brief flash of something, like the spark of gunpowder. Worry. Uncertainty. This was the Sephiroth that did not want to push, did not want to harm, that feared his own strength and power. It was the man that was raised to be more a weapon than a person. It was the Sephiroth that had grown up believing that he was incapable of love, and that no one would love him in return.</p><p>But that was not true. Not anymore.</p><p>Cloud lifted his hand, tucked a wayward strand away from Sephiroth’s face. With a smile, he said, “Yes. I want it to be you. I love you.”</p><p>Sephiroth kissed him back. “I love you, too.”</p><p>He made Sephiroth fish out the small tube of lube from the pile of their discarded clothes –</p><p>(<em>Somewhere between Cloud’s legs, Sephiroth stifled a laugh. “That’s what you went upstairs to get? Lube?” </em></p><p>
  <em>In response, Cloud playfully yanked on that silver hair, just the way he discovered the man liked it. “I never thought I would say this to you, of all people, but right now you are talking way too much.”)</em>
</p><p>– and settled himself against the blankets. When the man returned, Cloud pulled him down for another kiss, one that was fierce and gentle all at once. He let his legs fall open, watched the way the view ignited a spark of honest lust in those jade green eyes. Yes, that was<em> nice</em>. The silent praise, the tiny proofs that Sephiroth offered, to show that no one in the world could affect him quite like Cloud did. It heighted the tension, the arousal, and somehow, made Cloud even harder than he had ever been in his life.</p><p>And it appeared that Sephiroth himself was not faring much better. His eyes were dark, his expression tight, and Cloud knew then that he was testing the man’s famed discipline, taking it to the breaking point.</p><p>“Goddess,” Sephiroth murmured, dipping down to place a worshipful kiss on the top of Cloud’s knee. “You are breathtaking.”</p><p>Oh<em>. </em>Spoken praise was somehow nicer. Cloud moaned, invitingly, in response.</p><p>Sephiroth did not need to be prompted again. Though he continued to tease for a bit longer, with his fingers, with his tongue, when Cloud turned into a wild, trembling mess beneath him, he could not resist. He pushed inside Cloud, slowly, tenderly, his muscles shaking with the exertion, with the control. Something akin to a cry pulled out of Cloud’s throat at the breech. The stretch was demanding, the pain and unfamiliarity nearly all-consuming. And yet, there was something about it – the idea of becoming one with the first person Cloud had ever loved – that glossed the ache over in a veneer of impossible happiness. It felt more than just pleasure, more than just physical. This was something deeper, truer, like an inescapable reality, like endless gravity, like something woven into the fabric of the universe. Like he was meant for this man and like Sephiroth was meant for him.</p><p>Like this was destiny.</p><p>But those thoughts broke away quickly, once Sephiroth moved again. He opened Cloud wider and wider, sank into him deeper and deeper, until it felt like their very souls were touching. And even then, it was not enough. With a gasping breath, Cloud wrapped his arms around Sephiroth’s shoulders, brought the man closer, pressed their bodies together, tight and warm.</p><p>“Does it hurt?” Sephiroth asked.</p><p>“Only a little,” Cloud whispered back. Then, for emphasis: “Please. Don’t stop.”</p><p>And Sephiroth did not. The thrusts came a little faster now, the rhythm rising like a steady drum. Every move sent Cloud’s heart pounding, every brush against that spot inside him pulling louder and more heady noises from his mouth. Though the pleasure blurred his vision to near indecipherable levels, Cloud was determined to keep his eyes open, to watch Sephiroth’s face and see the way the man succumbed utterly to his desire. The crease in that brow, the green irises that were alight with lust and love, the warm heat of their flesh – all so beautiful, all so wonderous. There was not a single detail about the night that Cloud ever wanted to forget. There was not a single thing about Sephiroth that Cloud did not cherish.</p><p>Yet, despite his desires, he knew that all good things must come to an end. Cloud could feel it now, that pressure about to break apart in his core, could see that Sephiroth was just as close. The blond’s eyelids fluttered shut, his back arched in eager anticipation. <em>Just a little more, just a little more. </em>And as if on cue, strong arms moved to tighten around him, hips angling just so, ready to push them both over the edge.</p><p>“Cloud,” Sephiroth whispered, his face burrowed in the crook of the blond’s neck. On those elegant lips, the name sounded like a distant call, a perfect melody, a homecoming. “Cloud. <em>Cloud</em>.”</p><p>There was no resisting the pull. Cloud let himself be flung toward it, headlong, and unrelenting. “Sephiroth. <em>Sephiroth!</em>”</p><p>Finally, the wave hit. Climax swept over every inch of his body, clawing deep into every cell. Cloud screamed. His forehead pushed into Sephiroth’s shoulder, his fingernails tracked red lines down that muscled back, and his own cum painted white streaks against that cut abdomen. <em>Mine</em>, some part of Cloud echoed, through the connection in their bodies, in their minds. <em>All mine. </em>And just the same, he could feel the heat of Sephiroth’s seed spilling inside him, marking him unequivocally in return.</p><p>They collapsed against each other, on the soft blankets, all exhausted limbs and panting breaths. Despite the ache in his shoulders, Cloud could not bring himself to let go of the man, not just yet. He kept his arms there, around that neck, kept their faces close, and waited until Sephiroth’s eyes flickered open, until the man climbed down from the dreams of orgasm and settled back into their wistful reality.</p><p>Green stared into blue. “I…” Sephiroth began. But his breathless voice prevented him from elaborating further.</p><p>The blond laughed, kissed the man’s cheek. “Oh, now you finally want to shut up.”</p><p>Sephiroth’s lips turned upward in that lovely, tiny smile. He began to shift, and Cloud closed his eyes, whining as the man pulled out of him. The ache left behind became more evident without the fog of arousal to hide it. And yet, Cloud had no regrets. Not tonight, not warm and safe in Sephiroth’s arms. Regardless of the days before or the days to come, he would never regret this. He would hold this moment in his heart forever, and he would never let it, or the man he shared it with, go.</p><p>Cloud moved forward, to tangle together, to bury his face in Sephiroth’s chest. “I love you,” he whispered, pressing lips once more against the heated skin. “I love you.”</p><p>Quietly, Sephiroth embraced him, his breathing slowing, calming, the exhaustion of the evening and the last few days, sinking into his bones and muscles. But before he closed his eyes, he made sure to respond.</p><p>“I’m yours, Cloud. Truly. Yours.”</p><p>They let those words settle, lead them to sleep, and hoped that they would be enough to carry them through tomorrow, and through whatever awaited them behind the reactor’s locked doors.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>(<em> Finally</em>!)</p><p>Alright, with this chapter done, we are now nearing the end of Part One. The next two chapters constitute the season finale, so to speak (it was originally meant to be one chapter, but ended up way way way way way too long). </p><p>If you made it this far, just want to thank you again for your wonderful support - and also apologize in advance for what happens next...</p><p>See you all next week!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Atropos, Part One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sephiroth, Zack, and Cloud return to the reactor to meet Jenova. All hell breaks loose.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, everyone! I hope you had a great week. Once again, just want to express my sincerest gratitude for your support and encouragement. I cannot believe the response this fic has been getting - I'm so astounded by all of you, your generosity and your kindness!</p><p>We are now wading into the finale of Part One. While I sincerely hope that you enjoy, I did want to start off with a couple of warnings:</p><p>1. See those character death tags? They start to come into play here.<br/>2. This chapter is full of action and some disturbing imagery, as well as descriptions of characters in physical or mental pain/injury.<br/>3. Once again, just want to say that I swear I have a happy ending planned....just might take a while to get there!</p><p>Alright. On with the show!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was strange how a name could carry so much weight. Yet, there it was, emblazoned above the chamber door, hanging heavy like a guillotine blade.</p><p>
  <em>Jenova.</em>
</p><p>The things Sephiroth had imagined. When he was younger, he had always pictured a woman like Ilfana, beautiful, gracious, and kind. Except instead of brown hair, it would be silver like his own, and instead of leaving him to spend time with Gast or tend to her flowers, his mother would stay. Sephiroth would envision her humming lullabies and reading him fairytales, would imagine her cradling him in her arms whenever he was hurt or scared. His mother would be all the warmth that Hojo was not, all the light that the scientist often snuffed out in his calculated cruelty. She would be what he needed, and he would never have to be alone again.   </p><p>But as Sephiroth aged, the reality of his mother’s absence began to crush that childish fantasy. The narrative shifted – <em>she had left him, she had abandoned him, she had betrayed him. </em>He should hate her. And for a time, out there on the war ravaged lands of Wutai, he did. He grew angry. He grew bitter. He grew sad. And yet, no matter how deep those emotions cut, no matter how sound the logic, the thread that tied Sephiroth to his mother, to this woman he had never even met, endured. Sephiroth had come to recognize that there would always be a part of him that yearned for her, just as he did as boy hiding his tears in the fabric of his pillowcase. The years that had passed, the training he had underwent, and the battles he had fought would never change the truth: that to him, the lack of her would forever be an open and seeping wound.</p><p>This was his weakness, and he knew it.</p><p>“Seph, are you ready?”</p><p>Behind him, there was Zack, watching, knowing, caring. On his back, the young man carried that legendary sword, and despite the weight of its legacy, his shoulders stayed straight, and his stance remained sturdy and strong. Somehow, in the glinting metallic light of the reactor, Zack appeared a little taller than usual. A little older. A little wiser. <em>A little like Angeal</em>, though not in the manner that used to make Sephiroth’s heart twist. No, the feeling was something else: a calm presence, a warm welcome, a gentle reminder of the bonds Sephiroth once shared, and the new ones he carried with him now.</p><p>“We don’t have to do this. We can go back. Whatever you decide, we’re here.”</p><p>Then, beside him, there was Cloud. Determined, steely, stubborn, beautiful Cloud. There were no words to describe all that he meant, all that he was. Those blue eyes were a sky that stretched endlessly into a vast and open world, terrifying and liberating all at once. They held freedom, promise, and love – all things Sephiroth had once been denied, all things he had assumed he would never be able to possess. And yet, by some stroke of luck or fate, he had found them. He had found Cloud, and Cloud had freely and wonderfully given him all that he wished for, and so much more.</p><p>Zack and Cloud. Friendship and love. They were here. In the end, they had stayed.</p><p>Somehow, he was not alone.    </p><p>Sephiroth braced himself with a slow and careful breath. He lifted a hand and let the magic unfurl. “No. Let us finish this.”</p><p>The metal door creaked underneath the pull of his gravity spell, pulsing and then crushing in on itself with a loud, terrible clamor. When the bolts and the steel finally gave way, an eerie silence began to leak out of the open chamber. It swallowed everything, even the whirring of the reactor machinery that surrounded it, and the strange quiet left Sephiroth feeling colder than the mountain air outside. The foreboding aura, the chill sinking into his skin, the sudden burst of tightness in his chest – they were all warnings. This was it. This was the point of no return. But retreat was not an option, and in some ways, in all ways, it never was. Now, standing underneath the entryway that bore his mother’s name, Sephiroth could feel it.</p><p>This was <em>inevitable. </em> </p><p>Sephiroth crossed the threshold, followed by closely Zack and Cloud. Now inside the chamber, his senses were immediately consumed by two things. The first was the burning stench, sourced from the bubbling pools of mako below them. It made the space feel like the center of an active volcano, steel in place of rock, green in place of red. But as overwhelming as the heat was, the second detail that caught his vision was by far more arresting, so much so that Sephiroth was nearly afraid it would consume him. It loomed in the center of the room, irradiated by the mako glow, cradled by the wires and tubing that looped around the ceiling and the walls. Everything in the chamber fed into it – the light, the sounds, the air – as if the room itself was simply a shrine constructed to worship this glorious idol. Here it was at last. The endgame. The truth. A statue of titanium, protruding from the far end of the platform, with hollow eyes and silver wings.</p><p>A dark angel.</p><p>“Is that…her?” asked Zack.</p><p>Sephiroth did not reply. He let the voice he knew would be calling answer instead.</p><p>
  <em>My son. You have come for me.</em>
</p><p>It crashed, like a broken orchestra. The nightmares, the images, all washed over Sephiroth in flashes and in waves. <em>An endless fire. A falling meteor. A dead girl. A dark plague. A yawning void. A swirling nebula. An unmatched power.</em> But when the cycle ended and the scene played all the way through, Sephiroth knew what would be left, and that would be nothing. Nothing at all. An emptiness. A hollow. He would own that vast and open world that had been denied him, but it would be a wasteland. He would have the freedom he wanted, but it would be a false, bitter, and lonely kind.</p><p>
  <em>No, that is not true, my son. You will have me. You will not be alone. I will be all you need. </em>
</p><p>Jenova’s voice sounded as sweet as the lullabies Sephiroth once imagined as a child. It sang all the right notes, struck the all the right chords. The thread that had always been there, that tied Sephiroth to her, tugged and ached at the sound. Oh, he could have believed her. Once upon a time, Sephiroth would have believed her. He knew he was destined to believe her.</p><p>But did he have to believe her now?</p><p>And then, like the switch of a projector reel, images of a different kind of life. <em>A warm fireplace. Empty coffee mugs. Sunflower blond hair. Sky blue eyes. Sweet pink lips. A promise, sealed with a perfect kiss.</em> <em>I love you’s, entangled in soft, quilted blankets.</em> Sephiroth knew what he believed in, and it was not this false goddess. Sephiroth knew who his heart belonged to, and it was not Jenova. But it would not be as simple as making the choice – for he already knew what path he would take. No, this was a fight for something much more fundamental, for something that he never had as a boy locked in a white laboratory, as a teenager sent to war, as a man trapped in the remains of his wrecked mind and his broken heart.</p><p>The right to decide his own fate.</p><p>
  <em>No, my son. No. No.</em>
</p><p>Sephiroth moved, and with every step, the insistent pressure grew, drumming between his temples. But he ignored it, the woman’s cries, the jolts of pain, and continued to push through the air that became so thick it felt like breathing underwater. Some part of his mind heard Zack and Cloud behind him, their worry, their concern, but he could not give in, not now, not if he wanted to be able to turn around and see them again, today, tonight, tomorrow, and all the days afterward. He moved and moved, one foot in front of the other, and after seconds that felt like hours, Sephiroth arrived at the base of the statue, and looked up at the angel staring down at him with its black eyes.</p><p>
  <em>You must not betray me. Do not betray me. </em>
</p><p>Bracing his leg against the landing, he reached forward with both arms and pulled with all his strength against the wiring holding the structure together. The wings came tumbling, the façade collapsing into the mako pools below. And finally, no longer covered by that carefully constructed and sanitized steel, there stood the ugly, twisted, terrible truth.</p><p>“Oh, Gaia,” Cloud breathed.</p><p>The woman – the creature – that floated in the middle of the glass cylinder was not human, not even close. Its blue and purple skin looked like a collection of unhealed bruises, and from its central torso wound out a cord that connected to a large, red, beating heart. And yet, in its unnatural appearance, it was oddly beautifully, and altogether too familiar. Because in some ways, the long and silver hair, the knowing and fond gaze, the sweet and loving smile, Jenova was exactly what Sephiroth had been expecting, exactly the picture that he had drawn up in his childish imagination.</p><p>
  <em>Exactly what you deserve. </em>
</p><p>“That’s—” Zack began, but then stopped. If Sephiroth had turned, he would have seen the flicker of horror cross the man’s face. But it lasted only for a moment and vanished quickly beneath a determined expression. “What do you want to do, Seph? What do you need?”</p><p>
  <em>Your mother. You need me. </em>
</p><p>He did. That was his truth. He had always needed her, that want filling the dark corners of his mind. Perhaps there would always be that part of him that would forever wonder – because if things had been different, Sephiroth would have accepted Jenova without a second thought. But the reality was that things <em>were</em> different, and it rendered the price Jenova asked for too steep. And though Sephiroth knew that, knew what he would have to give up to fall to her, knew that he could not – still, her voice was like a siren call, tugging at every cell in his body, digging hooks into his head. It would just be a matter of time before he lost it all. Before he would make the nightmares she had sent him real.</p><p>Which meant there was only one option.</p><p>Sephiroth extended his left hand, summoned his trusted blade, felt a frission of needed and familiar strength at the touch.</p><p>
  <em>You will regret this. You will.</em>
</p><p>He narrowed his eyes, readied his stance, focused, inhaled.</p><p>It was time. This was time.   </p><p>
  <em>You cannot escape your fate.</em>
</p><p>“Sephiroth!”</p><p>Cloud’s voice cut through the haze like a sharp wind. But it was the roar that followed the blond’s call that actually startled Sephiroth, that made him stumble mid-motion, that forced him to turn his head back toward the entrance of the chamber.</p><p>There they were, tearing through the entryway, the monsters, the makinoids, like the one Genesis had unintentionally freed. Three of the deadly creatures had hatched from their pods and were marching toward them now, all horns and teeth and talons and legs and limbs – each portion of their bodies a mutated mixture of beast and human. Their eyes were glowing with unnatural mako, their fangs were glinting like tips of sharpened knives, and each step they took forward frighteningly rumbled the steel walkway they all stood on. And yet, any fear of the floor collapsing and sweeping them all into the burning green pools below remained utterly absent. The monsters had one focus, one intent, one singular purpose. They were abominations now heeding their mother’s call.</p><p>Zack drew his sword. He let out a single word that perfectly encapsulated the chaos that awaited: “Fuck.”</p><p>With a flick of his wrist, Sephiroth charged the fastest fire spell he could muster. But before he could release the flames, before he had a chance to blink, Jenova made her move.</p><p>It happened so fast, he had hardly sensed it. From behind him, the twisted angel shattered through her glass enclosure and wrapped her tentacles around Sephiroth’s body in a suffocating embrace. Masamune slipped from his grasp, clattered to the ground, and the magic died on his fingers, along with the last of his breath. Immediately, pain bubbled through each point of contact, his arms, his back, his throat, his legs. Every muscle and bone felt as if it were being crushed, and his lungs burned as the final wisps of air were squeezed straight out of him.</p><p>“Oh, Gaia. Sephiroth!”</p><p>It <em>hurt</em>. Terribly, more than any physical pain he had experienced before. Sephiroth could not think or see or hear or sense anything through the agony. Nothing at all, except for her. Her tortuous touch. Her relentless assault. Her haunting voice, whipping between sweetly false condolences and harrowing chastisements (<em>a mother wrangling an ungrateful child</em>). No matter how hard Sephiroth gasped or thrashed, Jenova would not give. She had been calling all this time, and now she had him – and he realized she would never let go.</p><p>“Sephiroth! Sephiroth!”</p><p>In the final flickers of his consciousness, Sephiroth managed to register the shouting. He also felt the sudden loss of ground, the shifting of gravity, the rush of air – and, last, the heat of the mako. As the world flew past his darkening vision, as he fell, he could piece out from the blur the edges of Zack’s shocked expression and the light of Cloud’s blue eyes, wide and glowing and wild with fear.  </p><p>(<em>You will regret this. You will.)</em></p><p>“Sephiroth!” Cloud called again and again.</p><p>But there was nothing Sephiroth could do. The monsters charged. Zack cursed. Cloud screamed.</p><p>And Sephiroth let the green swallow him whole.</p><p>---</p><p>When he had opened his eyes that morning, Cloud could not escape it – the odd conflict of emotions that pulsed beneath his skin. There was the night before, the memory of the touches, the kisses, the heat, and how the tenderness expanded his heart to such lengths that he could hardly comprehend it. It made him think about a conversation he once had with his mother, about love, about how he would know when he had it. She had said, <em>when your heart feels so full, it grows and grows and grows, and never stops, even after you think you cannot take it. </em></p><p>She was right. When Sephiroth had laid him down, stripped him bare, tasted all he had to offer, and gave himself fully in return, Cloud had felt so full that he thought he would break. But he did not, because the man held him close, held him together. Those strong arms kept him centered and protected, providing all that Cloud needed for his heart to grow and grow and grow. Cloud had been sure of what he felt for Sephiroth before that night, but in the morning, when he woke up and saw his peaceful expression, lighted just so from the sun filtering through the cracks of the barn walls – his chest ached so strongly that he became more than certain of it. The feeling had transformed into a basic tenant of his existence, a core code of his own being and structure and soul.</p><p>He loved Sephiroth. He loved him.</p><p>And yet, Cloud could not shake the nagging thought that somehow, someway, this was just too good to be true.</p><p>He should have listened to it, listened to the small voice that said to take Sephiroth and go far away. But even if that was what Cloud had wanted, he knew Sephiroth. The man was determined to see this through, for both himself and for him. So, they marched back up the mountain as if pulled by some invisible threads of fate. It seemed there was no stopping gravity, no stopping the boulder once it started down the hill.</p><p>No stopping the angel from falling without his wings.</p><p>“Sephiroth!”</p><p>There was little time to register what was happening. In one moment, Sephiroth was there, standing before the woman-like creature in the glass cannister (<em>Jenova</em>, all the signs seemed to indicate), ready to close this chapter with a resounding flourish of his sword. And in the next, hell itself had crawled forth into the reactor. In the small and frenzied space of the inner chamber, the chaos felt entirely too large. Cloud hardly knew what to focus on: Sephiroth, Zack, Jenova, or the makinoids charging toward them. He had picked the latter, readied his sword, powered up his materia – and then instantly regretted his decision.</p><p>Because then, Jenova took Sephiroth and they fell, and Cloud’s heart fell with them.</p><p>The reaction was immediate<em>.</em> Whatever connection Hojo had implanted now hissed and cracked between them, the band pulling and pulling and pulling so taut, the snap of the tension threatened knock the sense and strength out of him. But Cloud could not let go, refused to, kept hold of the rope, grasped tightly on that tie to Sephiroth in hopes that it would prevent the man from completely drowning, even as he tried to push the sensation to the back of his mind to concentrate on the threat in front of him now.</p><p>Luckily, the blond was not alone. Zack was there, moving like a wraith, strength channeled in powerful precision. The gentle puppy had vanished, replaced by a trained predator, and in Zack’s hands, the Buster Sword sang. He rushed at the closest monster, each connection of metal with claw sounding like chaotic cymbals. One blow, and then another. A rush of lightning, the sparks of purple lingering in the air, to push back the other two creatures closer to the door. As he moved, Zack’s face was grim, focused, and utterly lacking the casual ease with which he carried himself during spars or most missions. To Cloud, that was the first sign. But the second was far more sinister: the small bruises blossoming on the other man’s arms, from attacks not so cleanly blocked, from onslaughts unavoidable.</p><p>It was clear: these were not just ordinary monsters. They moved with the intelligence of a human and the speed of the quickest of beasts. They were elevated, they were higher, they were powerful, and they were dangerous. In all that and in their jade green eyes, they were <em>familiar</em>, in a haunting and terrible way.  </p><p>But there was no time to dwell on precisely what that meant. Cloud took a breath, drew his own sword, and charged. His sword connected with the torso of the closest makinoid, which cried out and swung a large and heavy arm back at him in reply. Zack cursed again, elbowed Cloud out of the way, and just about barely ducked the counterattack. But still, Cloud was not deterred. He moved again, sliced again, and again. The stakes were too high and too great to stop. It did not help that the blond felt an unbearable pressure to end this quickly, to rescue Sephiroth. Cloud tried to keep his heart from beating straight out of his chest, tried to keep his vision from blurring in his desperation, tried to maintain enough wits to choose the correct maneuvers, but with every motion, every parry, every slice, every dodge, the fear continued to spike. He needed to do <em>something</em>, and he needed to do it fast.</p><p>“Cloud, watch out!”</p><p>Something was coming toward him, a claw, a foot, a mouth, the blond was not sure. It was too fast for him to recognize, too fast for him to react. But suddenly, Cloud was yanked backward by the fabric of his SOLDIER uniform, his back hitting the cool steel platform. The attacking monster (<em>it had been so close, so close</em>) stumbled at the lack of its target, now overextended, now open, and that was when Zack <em>moved</em>.</p><p>The black-haired First rolled around the makinoid and swiped upward, slicing the reaching limb clean off in a fierce and fluid motion. He followed the attack with another flurry of lightning spells, and as the electricity hummed through the rough hide of flesh, the magic began to push the monster off-balance. Its steps were inching teasingly close to the edge. Now was their chance. From his position on the floor, Cloud responded to the opportunity by swinging a swift kick to those faltering legs. At last, the makinoid fell, a slow and terrible fall, its screeching howl completely consumed by the endless green void below.</p><p>Zack exhaled and said, “One down, two to go.”</p><p>A year ago, Cloud would have sat back in pure awe at the dark-haired SOLDIER’s abilities, just as he had in Modeoheim. But at that time, he had been an unenhanced, unremarkable trooper, a nameless face hidden underneath a standard Shinra helmet. Cloud was none of those things now, not anymore.</p><p>The blond stood and picked up his sword. There were still two monsters awaiting them farther down the walkway, their yellow and sharp teeth jutting outward from open, snarling mouths. Looking at them now, Cloud felt a terrifying rage, blooming from deep in his core. These were the things keeping him separated from Sephiroth, that were preventing him from saving the man that he loved. For that unspeakable sin, they needed to die. He concentrated on that anger, channeled it into magic. Fire began dancing in Cloud’s fingertips like a snake charmed by a song. Quickly and decisively, he combined the flames with a tornado of wind spells and blasted back the makinoids straight through the door.</p><p>But Cloud did not stop there. He bolted forward, brandishing his blade, his attacks carrying him through the threshold, back into the main room, and down the central staircase. It did not matter that there were two sets of claws, of teeth, coming at him in quick and relentless staccato. It did not matter that they welted bruises and cut thin red lines into his skin. They were fast, but Cloud knew their speed, knew it well, had been taught by the very man who possessed it. It was only a matter of time. And when the opening came, an exposed jugular, an open core, he took it without hesitation.</p><p>The second creature fell, too, its body decorated with an artwork of slices and burns.</p><p>But where was the third?</p><p>“Cloud!” Zack called. He was standing at the top of the stairs, his own blue eyes blown wide.</p><p>The blond whipped his head up. Zack was pointing, down the lines of eight pods that stacked up the four levels of the chamber.</p><p>Pods that were all supposed to be closed, that were supposed to keep their demons sealed and asleep.</p><p>Pods that were now all open, like cracked eggshells, metal and glass strewn all over the floor.</p><p>Pods that were now all empty, their monsters now free.</p><p>The realization wretched in Cloud’s gut. From the corner of his eye, he could see it – the door to reactor, to the world outside, torn apart. If he had gone to look, he would have spotted the large footsteps tracking down the dirt path, down the mountain. Eventually, they would be marking their assault through the surrounding forest.</p><p>And into to the village below.</p><p>“Oh, Gaia…” Cloud said, voice shaking. His soul felt torn. Down there was his mother, Tifa, everyone he had known since birth, all lambs waiting for the wolves to come and raid and slaughter. And in here, drowning in a sea of green, held captive by something they had yet to understand, was the love of his life. It was a fear almost too surreal to comprehend, the reality that he could lose nearly everything and everyone he had ever cared about, in the span of a single day. All because of those monsters.</p><p>All because of <em>her.</em></p><p>The anger that had erupted inside Cloud earlier now burned hotter than the mako from any of his injections. It was petrifying, suffocating, breaking, threatening to melt away the metal of his backbone, the steel of his eyes.</p><p>But once again, Zack was there, moving forward, his Buster Sword at the ready. “I’ll go,” he said, already halfway out of the reactor. “You get Sephiroth.”</p><p>“There’s too many of them for you! You’ll—”</p><p>“No buts,” the Lieutenant interjected. His voice was calm, without uncertainty. “Seph needs you. And I can’t have you stealing all the thunder, not again, can I?”</p><p>They hardly had a second, but Cloud spared one anyway, just to look at his friend, to see him. In some ways, Zack was still the same as when they had first met – all optimism, all hope, in a figure so full of friendliness and warmth. The fact that he had retained much of those qualities, even after <em>everything</em>, made him all the more admirable. But there were also some key differences too – a darkening of those blue eyes that signified a greater wisdom, a keen understanding, a fire-forged honor. The others had called Zack the heart and soul of SOLDIER for a reason. And right now, Cloud saw exactly why.</p><p>Cloud knew he loved Sephiroth, had always respected him. But from the start, Zack was Cloud’s friend. And more than that, Zack was Cloud’s hero.  </p><p>“Okay,” the blond relented, starting to step backwards up the stairs. “See you later.”</p><p>Zack shot a grin over his shoulder. Somehow, despite the strain at the edge of his lips, it looked like he meant it. “Yep. See you later.”</p><p>And with that promise, they both turned, Cloud to the chamber, Zack to the mountain, and went their separate ways.</p><p>---</p><p>The night Zack left Midgar, Aerith had slept over. It was a rare occurrence, given that Elmyra was somewhat still on the fence about their relationship (though that had less to do with Zack and more to do with his employer) and the fact that Aerith was a young woman and mothers naturally had issues with those sorts of things. But Zack loved Aerith, always made it a point to be gentle, to be careful. For she was not just someone he had fun with, not one of those quick encounters he had dabbled in as a dashing, young, and promising SOLDIER. She was the one. He had known that the moment he accidentally punched a hole through her church roof with his awkwardly falling body.</p><p>The morning after, as he was packing his bag and getting dressed, Aerith had watched him from bed, her green eyes sparkling in the rising sunlight.</p><p>“Did I tell you about my wishes?” she had asked.</p><p>Zack had been folding another shirt. “No. Can you tell me now?”</p><p>“Sure. There’s twenty-three of them, though.”</p><p>“Twenty-three? Babe, you know, my memory isn’t the best.”</p><p>She laughed. “I know. That’s why put them all together in one.”</p><p>He tucked the clothes into his bag. “Alright, what is it?”</p><p>“I’d like to spend more time with you.”</p><p>The words had come out so softly, so strangely. It was enough to cause Zack to pause, turn his attention away from his packing and toward Aerith and her downcast gaze. Her fingers were tightly curled around his bedsheets, as if desperately clinging onto something – something she was afraid she was going to lose.</p><p>Zack had moved over to the bedside and kissed her fiercely. “I’ll come back,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. “I’ll come back. I promise.”</p><p>He had meant it. He generally meant all the promises he made. That was what honorable men did, and Zack had been taught that honor was the key to making a great SOLDIER.</p><p>(A great hero.)</p><p>But now, standing at the edge of a town falling apart, seeing rooftops collapsed, corpses of animals and humans half-eaten and crushed, hearing the screams, Zack could not stop the goosebumps, the doubt, from rising on his skin.</p><p>He had run as fast has he could, conjured up the specter of those training sessions with Sephiroth in Wutai (<em>“One strike. Kill it in only one strike.”</em>) to make quick work of whatever ordinary monsters he encountered along the way. But the makinoids had sped forward so quickly, driven by their long-brewing hunger and by an order etched deep into their cells. Zack had only managed to catch one straggler, and after a battle that had taken far too long, that had led to an injury on his left shoulder which continued to smart with every movement, its corpse had finally faded to green somewhere amongst the trees of the mountain forest.</p><p>In the meantime, the other four had slipped away during the fight.</p><p>But there was no time to dwell on past failures, not right now. Zack moved into Nibelheim, mind running faster than his body had been moments earlier. The first priority was getting the civilians out, the second was stopping the monsters. However, the problem that currently rang alarms in Zack’s head was that he would not be able accomplish the first, at least not by himself (he was not ready to think about whether he was capable of the second). He needed some back-up, and he needed it quick.</p><p>“Zack! Zack! Over here!”</p><p>And just like she had been a few days ago, Tifa Lockhart was a godsend. The girl was waving from behind a brick building, still placed near the outskirts of the town. There were smudge marks from dirt coloring her knees and her cheeks, as if she had fallen somewhere and sometime earlier. But her crimson eyes were still determined, still strong, still blazing, and were more than a welcome sight.</p><p>Quickly, Zack bounded toward her. “Tifa! We have to get the townsfolk out of here.”</p><p>“You think?” she shot back, her voice thick. It was then Zack noticed something else, the lines of dried tears streaking down her face, and he was reminded of the fact that she must have been around Aerith’s age, still so amazingly young. “Those monsters – they’re the same as the one from the reactor. What’s going on?”</p><p>Zack was not sure how to fully explain it, could not even begin to, so he settled for the simplified version in an effort to keep the focus tight. “The rest of them escaped. You need to get as many villagers as you can out of the town. I’ll stay behind and deal with them.”</p><p>“You? Where’s Cloud? Where’s the General?”</p><p>On any other day, Zack would have found it in himself to be just a little insulted, but not today. Not this time. The Lieutenant inhaled, to try and steady both himself and Tifa. “They’re in the reactor, dealing with the source of the monsters,” he said, because it was technically the truth. And then, a possible fib, because even though Zack wanted to believe, the uncertainty had already made a home in his heart. “They’ll be here. But we might not be, if we don’t move.”</p><p>Tifa narrowed her eyes, questioning, curious, suspicious. She had been like that when they had first encountered her, her distrust in Shinra obvious. And that distrust only grew more and more following the events she inadvertently witnessed in the reactor. Cloud had managed to convince her to keep quiet about what she had seen, about the monsters, about Genesis, about Sephiroth, on the promise that he would explain once they had completed their mission, and it was only because of her clear fondness for the blond that she agreed. Now though, he could see that not even Cloud would be able to steer her away.</p><p>Not that Zack would want him to. After today, she deserved more than just an explanation.</p><p>But regardless of that fact, of her mistrust, Tifa replied, “Alright.” She balled her hands into tight fists, kept them stable at her sides. “Most of the villagers have been running to one of the paths in the mountain. It’s fastest way to the nearest town. I’ll keep trying to get others to safety. But you need to go to the square. Master Zangan and some of the men – they’re trying to hold the monsters there, but they won’t stand a chance.”   </p><p>Zack nodded, though he kept the curl in his stomach from showing on his face. He did not want to think about what he would see when he got to the center part of town but judging from the handful of bodies that had had already encountered, it was going to be a gruesome picture.</p><p>“Thank you. Just get out of here.”</p><p>Instead of moving right away, the girl fixed him with a knowing stare. She asked, quietly, “This is Shinra’s fault, isn’t it?”</p><p>There was only one answer to that question: the truth. But Zack was not prepared to give it. He reached out, put a soft hand on Tifa’s shoulder, squeezed gently. “Go. Go now.”</p><p>In response, Tifa let out a breath. She lifted a hand, squeezed his fingers back. “Okay.”</p><p>He waited only for a few seconds, to watch Tifa duck into one of the houses and pull out a frightened and elderly woman and her two cats. As soon as he saw them start walking the path toward the mountain, Zack turned around. He began dashing to the square, legs marking quick and long strides, eyes following the sight of the water tower jutting upward from the destruction. The fingers of his right hand remained close to the hilt of the Buster Sword, and with each step he took forward, his muscles coiled tighter, ready to spring out at a moment’s notice. At his pace, it only took him a few seconds to reach his destination, and as much as he wished he hadn’t been, it turned out that he was right.</p><p>It was gruesome.</p><p>There must have been at least fifteen or twenty men, their guns and their farming tools all scattered and broken across the dirt. But even more disturbing were the limbs and the blood, blotching over the brown like an uneven painting. It had been a methodical slaughter, rapid sacrifices for the sake of buying some brief moments of time for the rest of the town. The only consolation was that it had worked. All four of the remaining creatures were still in the square, three sating their hunger on bodies that had been ripped apart and torn to pieces. But one was adjacent to the water tower, howling in hunger, swinging its limbs as it danced with the last of the food –a greying man, with gritted teeth and tattered clothing. Though the man’s thigh had been cut cleanly open, blood dripping down to the ground, he continued to artfully dodge in the spaces between the monster’s teeth and claws, determined to hold out until the very end.</p><p>Not if Zack could help it. He fired up a Stop spell and used it to momentarily incapacitate the three makinoids currently distracted by their meal. Next, he leapt up and bore down all his strength to behead the monster attacking the last man. Despite the advantage of surprise, all Zack managed was a solid hit, enough to slice a third of the way through the neck and force the demon to its knees. The contact jolted up his injured arm, made him wince, both out of pain and out of disappointment. But still, he would take it, if it meant saving a life. That would be more than enough.</p><p>“Run!” Zack called.</p><p>And yet, the man the creature had been targeting did not leave; instead, he used his good leg to deliver a powerful, trained kick to the injured monster’s core. The force pulled Zack’s blade further into the flesh and drove the beast into the ground. Immediately and for good measure, the Lieutenant cast fire over the large, twisted body, and only once the skin took the flame and the makinoid’s eyes glazed over with death, did he turn to regard the person who had stayed behind.</p><p>“I’m guessing you are Master Zangan?” asked Zack. And then, by way of introduction. “I’m Zack. Tifa sent me.”</p><p>The man turned, his red cape and grey beard flittering in the subtle breeze. His breaths came out in sharp and pained pants. “Zack. You’re a SOLDIER, I presume?”</p><p>The Lieutenant was about to respond, when the gurgling from the other three monsters started up in earnest. One had its eyes locked straight at him, pupils dilated in abject concentration. The other two began thrashing against the bindings of the magic, the silver wisps of the Stop spell shattering away.</p><p>Zack shifted, readied his stance. “Get out of here. I’ll handle this.”</p><p>“Those three killed twenty good men. And <em>fast.</em> You can’t fight them alone.”</p><p>“All due respect, sir. It’s my job to.”</p><p>Zangan looked him, cautious and sorrowful. But he understood, knew, could probably sense the truth as keenly as the throbbing injury on his thigh. The man stepped back, nodding in assent. “Well then, Zack. You are a good man. You have my gratitude.”</p><p>Zack did not reply, nor watch him leave. He waited until the limping footsteps faded far enough to cast another fire spell and cut off all exits to the square. It was now just him versus them. The three makinoids now shaking themselves out of their stupor, now growling with intent at their final piece of prey. Three on one. He could do this. He could ignore the fatigue from the earlier fights, from the sprint down the mountain and through the town. He could disregard the ache of his shoulder, the flickers of nausea in his stomach that signified mana depletion. He could push down the anxiety over what was happening to Cloud, to Sephiroth. He could bury the fear building in his chest over whether he was going to be able to keep his promise to Aerith.</p><p>He could focus. He could protect the rest of the villagers. He could win.</p><p>At the very least, he could give a raging good fight.</p><p>Zack lifted his sword, pointed it skyward, pressed its cool metal to his forehead. Angeal’s familiar mantra filtered through the touch, like a solemn prayer. <em>Embrace your dreams. And, whatever happens</em> <em>protect your honor as SOLDIER.</em></p><p>One monster howled in challenge. Zack accepted with a swing of his blade.</p><p>“Come and get it!”</p><p>---</p><p>The first thing that Cloud did once the monsters were dealt with and Zack left the reactor was reach for the tether in his mind. It was faint, but it was there, like a lightning bolt of energy, buzzing faintly at the back of his skull. Relief flooded him the instant he sensed it, the moment he could feel Sephiroth, far away, but still present, still there. He latched onto that sense, clutched at what he could feel, kept his eyes and his focus fixed on that point, like a sailor lost at sea would to the North Star.</p><p>Now, all that was left was for Cloud to dive into the green ocean and pray that he would not drown.</p><p>For just a moment, standing above the glimmering pools of mako, he hesitated. It was odd, the way the light struck the liquid, the way the metal of the reactor seemed to amplify its eerie glow. The shine reminded Cloud so keenly of Sephiroth’s eyes – how sharp, how intelligent, how powerful that man’s gaze was. How had he not noticed that resemblance before?</p><p>No. No matter. If Cloud wanted to look into those eyes again, he knew what he needed to do.</p><p>When the mako touched him, swallowed him, it began to fully sear through his senses. There was nothing but green, nothing but the burn, nothing but the pungent smell, the bitter taste, the soundless void. It took everything Cloud had to keep himself held together, to stop from losing his body and his mind wholly to the hollowness. He fought against the overwhelming sensations by focusing on what was most important, grasped at it, kept the threads tight in his fingers, following the vibrations of his cells and the pulsing of his heart, as it pointed him toward its owner.</p><p>
  <em>Sephiroth! Sephiroth!</em>
</p><p>And there he was, floating in the wasteland, bound and silenced by the parasite that had wrapped around him. The man’s eyes were open and empty, his body limp and lifeless, as if the very soul had been stolen from it. But more than that, Sephiroth looked so alone, more so than Cloud had seen him before. More than the first time he had spotted a younger version of the man on television. More than the time they had met in the training room. This was someone who was drowning in the loneliness, breaking under the strain. Someone who believed that no one would be coming for him. That he was unloved and nothing, once more.</p><p>
  <em>No!</em>
</p><p>With all the strength he could muster, Cloud launched himself forward. He drew his sword as he charged, readied the blow, angled it just so. In a single motion, he cleaved the tentacles off, and ignored the resounding howl that Jenova gave in response. Quickly, his arms seized Sephiroth, yanking him out of the remaining vestiges of the dark angel’s hold. But even freed from her embrace, the man still did not move. <em>Why wasn’t he moving? Why wasn’t he breathing?</em> Cloud pushed past the hammering of his heart, and shook that beautiful head over and over again, desperate for any response.</p><p>
  <em>Sephiroth! I’m here for you. I’m here!</em>
</p><p>No answer. Instead, all Cloud heard was <em>her. </em>Her voice. Sickly sweet, like soured maple syrup. Stinging, distorted, twisted, and haunting.  </p><p>
  <em>He does not belong to you.</em>
</p><p>Cloud saw her coming, saw her dark and poisonous magic reaching out, staining the surrounding green a terrible, disturbing black. He could sense what that touch was meant to accomplish, could feel the anger and the rage and the hunger radiating from Jenova’s core. She was going to kill them. She was going to kill them both. Because if she could not possess her son in life, then she would have him in death.</p><p>Only Cloud was not about to let that happen.</p><p>
  <em>He does not belong to you either!</em>
</p><p>In the split second that followed, he twisted, placed his body between Sephiroth and that monster, and summoned the last of his mana to his fingers. Cloud met the black with a blaze of red fire, the heat and the power surging through him and out of his hands. He did not have to look to see that he hit his target, only needed to hear Jenova’s chilling cries echoing loud as she finally sank away in the empty, floating space.</p><p>And that was enough. Cloud turned, grasped at Sephiroth, began the arduous ascent back to reality. It hurt, so badly. The mako burned in his lungs, itched his skin. His muscles ached, under the strain of Sephiroth’s weight, under the heavy exertion of the fight with those monsters, with Jenova. But he kept going, concentrating on the light glimmering above, narrowing his eyes and his concentration, reaching for it with everything he had. He had to make it. He had to. For Sephiroth. For the both of them.  </p><p>It was not until he burst through the surface and hauled both his and Sephiroth’s body back onto the metal floor that he registered it.</p><p>The pain, from the remnants of one of Jenova’s long and sickled tentacles, piercing Cloud straight through the center of his chest.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Press One for Seph.<br/>Press Two for Zack.<br/>Press Three for Cloud.</p><p>Who is our unlucky fellow? Stay tuned next week to find out!</p><p>(P.S. I'm sorry! If you feel like yelling at me sooner, please feel free to check out my twitter @crescentstrife haha). </p><p>Thanks for reading!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Atropos, Part Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Destiny takes its sacrifice.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome back! Sorry for the slight delay: this chapter took me a lot longer than expected to edit and update. I am grateful to you all for your patience and your kindness. With this, we are over 120K words in, and have now come to the conclusion of Part One. Truly, I have never written this much before in my life, and I could not have done it without your support and encouragement. To those who left kudos, who commented, who lurked, to those who made it this far, I appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you!</p><p>Now, for the usual warnings: Character Death, Violent Imagery, Injury, Grief, Human Experimentation, General Violence. What can I say? This chapter is a bit wild.</p><p>I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It felt like dying.</p><p>There was nothing but green, around him and in him. It filled his lungs, steeped into his skin, danced over his eyelids in shades both bright and dark. It was green for what seemed to be miles and miles, hours and hours, an endless canvas that stretched over all his senses, all his being. A vast and limitless green, an overwhelming and impossible green. Even if he could move, the green would await him, taunt him, at each futile turn. Green. Green. Green. No freedom. Just green. Swallowing his past, crushing his present, and now, taking his future.</p><p>There was a moment in which Sephiroth had tried to fight it. He drew from the smoldering of whatever fire burned within him, that had spurred him to lift his blade against the dark angel (<em>no, your mother</em>) and bring an end to this nightmare. He summoned the memory of Cloud, the warmth of his affection, the captive softness of his lips, the sweetness of every touch they had ever shared. Evenings wrapped in the sheets and in each other, mornings awakening to the sunshine of blond hair – that was what Sephiroth had waiting for him, back in the world above. That was what he had to lose if he allowed himself to drown in this ocean below.</p><p>And so Sephiroth struggled. He fought and clamored and reached, with all the strength that his weaponized body had been stuffed with. Yet, it was to no avail. No matter what he tried, Jenova kept her grip, as tight as a straitjacket. She prodded at his defenses with sweet half-truths that spread over him like water searching for the tiniest fissures. She said, <em>they will not come for you. </em>She claimed, <em>they will leave you. </em>She whispered, <em>you belong here. I will love you. I will protect you. You will not hurt anymore.</em></p><p>It was everything Sephiroth had once wanted to hear, the thing he most wished for as a boy crying in a cold metal room, as a teenager sweating in the heat of a jungle war, as a man standing in a lonely tower. In all that time and in all those years, he had wondered about his mother, longed to meet her, to see her, to understand. Now, he realized that she too had always been calling for him, waiting for the day that he could finally decipher her voice. Perhaps that was proof that she did care. Perhaps she always had cared. Perhaps she was telling the truth. Perhaps, if he had to be trapped in this empty green forever, it would not be so bad to have his mother, the one he had been yearning for all his life.</p><p>That was it: the single poisonous drop of doubt, the momentary hesitation. For just one second, Sephiroth wondered <em>– </em>and that was all that Jenova needed.</p><p>In that sliver of an opening, she slipped into him and began breaking his soul wide open, burrowing despair and anger and sorrow and pain in the spaces until there seemed to be nothing left but <em>her, </em>swallowing every piece of him whole. His strength faded. His body stilled. His eyelids fluttered. Even breathing felt unnecessary, a relic of an instinct best left for the human, something that was never for him, something that he never was. It was time Sephiroth stopped trying to pretend otherwise.</p><p>
  <em>Yes, my son. Let go.</em>
</p><p>It would be so easy to comply. Unfurl his hands. Offer his silent apology, a quiet good-bye. Cloud would understand. Cloud would move on. Sephiroth was not worthy of him anyway.</p><p>
  <em>My son. My son.</em>
</p><p>When he closed his eyes, he expected to see nothing, hear, nothing, feel nothing.</p><p>Instead, like a faraway prayer, Sephiroth heard <em>him</em>, the sweetest sound he had ever known.</p><p>
  <em>(Sephiroth! I’m here for you. I’m here!)</em>
</p><p>At first, Sephiroth did not recognize it, could not fathom it – in a world full of people who had left, who had not cared enough to stay, who would willingly drown themselves to save him? But just as he had when they had first met, just as he had even in his dreams, Cloud Strife continued to defy all expectations. With each word from the blond’s lips, the truth sunk deeper and deeper. Sephiroth was not alone. Sephiroth was not abandoned. Cloud was here. Despite everything, he was here. He was fighting for Sephiroth. He came for him.</p><p>(<em>I promise you. I’ll never leave you.)</em></p><p>Cloud loved him.</p><p>That was more than enough. A tiny spark burst inside Sephiroth, but the conflagration it grew into was not like the terrifying and destructive flames of his nightmares. Instead, it was the warm embrace of the fireplace at the center of the home that he knew he wanted to return to. The reminder pushed Sephiroth to try once more. He struggled, fought, clamored, and reached. He banged his fist against the cages of his mind, called upon every last thread of power he possessed, raged and raged against the dying of the light, against the falling of the tide, against the collapsing of the stars. This time, he knew it would work. Because Cloud was there, and because against that astounding steel, even Jenova would have no choice but to fall. Sephiroth did not stop. Not until that blossoming heat broke through every inch of his body and blood, not until the fire chased the poison out of his cells and purified the darkness, not until Jenova released him.</p><p>Not until he was finally free.</p><p>It happened so suddenly. In one moment, he could not breathe. And in the next, when Sephiroth inhaled, actual air tingled in his nostrils. In place of the floating emptiness, something solid braced his back, and in place of Jenova’s suffocating embrace and whispered lies, all he felt was the heaviness of his muscles and all he heard was the hum of machinery white noise. The slow return of every sense hurt like absolute hell, devouring and fraying his nerves. It was such a contrast to the void, to the vagueness, to the hollow and green existence, that it took Sephiroth more than a few moments to remember how to move his limbs, and even longer to recall how to open his eyes. Everything was so real, so true, so tactile.</p><p>So alive<em>.</em></p><p>
  <em>Alive. </em>
</p><p>He was alive. He was breathing and hearing and touching and alive, and somehow, that fact was unbelievable. Sephiroth was here, lying on the bottom level of the reactor, the platform from which he had fallen from minutes ago (or was it hours or days or years, in that green, it was so difficult to tell) looming above him like an ominous mountain. There was no sign of Jenova, no sense of her buzzing in the back of his mind, nothing of the pressure that her presence had squeezed into his skull. Her darkness had left him, like the whipping winds of a storm retreating to sea, and for the first time in days, Sephiroth could feel clarity seeping in. The fog that had threatened to consume him began to lift from his mind, the green that had been surrounding him pushing out of his senses. The relief was intense, unmistakable, nearly all consuming. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to laugh. He wanted so many things.</p><p>Most of all, he wanted Cloud.</p><p>Ignoring the protests of his body, the strange feeling of being back in a physical form, Sephiroth pulled himself upright. From the corner of his eye, he could see the excavated mako, glimmering in a bright and hazy green light that bounced off the metallic structures of the reactor. Some vague part of him recognized that pool as where he had come from, from where he had been pulled out of and back onto solid ground.</p><p>But where was the person that had saved him?</p><p>In that singular moment, his heart thudded loudly, once, twice, three times, like a warning.</p><p>Sephiroth turned around.</p><p>And there Cloud was, crumpled like a broken doll, and surrounded by a dark crimson that was oozing out from an open wound in his back.</p><p>“Cloud!”</p><p>He moved as quickly as his limbs would allow, was beside the blond in seconds, turning him over in his lap and arms. Red bloomed from the center of Cloud’s chest like an overflow of roses, petals spilling out and out over that small frame. The sight, the weightlessness and stillness of the body, was almost too much, just too much. Tightness rose in his throat, dampness in his eyes (<em>too late too late too late</em>), but Sephiroth urged it all down, concentrated on what he had to do next. He pressed against the wound, and through trembling fingers, summoned the coils of curing magic, letting the warmth and hope dance over his hand. Sephiroth was so focused, narrowing every part of his strength and his will into the act of healing, that he had hardly noticed when one of Cloud’s own hands rose up and gently rested atop his own.  </p><p>“Oh, it’s you,” whispered Cloud, suddenly, softly. A small smile twitched on those lips, slow and sleepy, and so much like the ones the blond would give him in the mornings when they woke up tangled in sheets and pillows and each other’s arms.  </p><p>Sephiroth let his eyes flicker over that face, zeroing in on the blue glow, somehow still so brilliant, even in this moment. “Cloud,” he said. “Hold on. Just hold on, alright?” With a deep breath, he pushed harder, willing his mana to fly out of him. He would expend every single bit of magic out of his body if it meant saving Cloud. It was only right. It was only fair.</p><p>Cloud’s fingers curled. There was a tiny motion, like a jerk, and Sephiroth realized that he was trying to pry his hand away, to stop him. He could not understand why – not until he looked down and saw.</p><p>The wound was not closing.</p><p>Like the slice on a shoulder from an errant sword fragment, like the lacerations decorating the remains of a once honorable man, the edges of the flesh had melted into a rotting, haunting and familiar black. The recognition slammed into Sephiroth like a speeding freight train, with enough force to nearly shatter his bones.</p><p>“No, please–”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Sephiroth,” Cloud said. “I tried. But I don’t think I can keep my promise.”</p><p>The feeling of tightness returned and this time, Sephiroth did not fight it. He keeled over, empty air pushing out of his stomach, the muscles in his throat constricting and spasming. Cloud was so weak, so small, his voice barely echoing in the yawning chasm of the reactor chamber. And yet, despite the quiet, Sephiroth was overwhelmed. If he had felt besieged by the return of sense before, by the pain of feeling everything all at once, then this, all of this –</p><p>This was excruciating.</p><p>Cloud reached up again, to hold Sephiroth’s face. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.”</p><p>“No. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“I love you. I love you.”</p><p>There was no stopping the tears now. They wrecked through Sephiroth, like an earthquake in his core. As much as he wanted to still himself, he could not. He sunk his head, wrapped his arms around that body, holding on for whatever he could. And in those final seconds, Cloud remained as solid and true as ever, the blue of his irises still brilliant, even as his blinking slowed, even as his breaths started to fade.</p><p>“Can you promise me something, instead?” Cloud murmured.</p><p>“Please. I love you. Please.”</p><p>“You’ll fight. You’ll keep fighting. You’ll live. You’ll keep living.”</p><p>Sephiroth choked out a sob.</p><p>“They need you. The town. Zack. My mom. They need you.”</p><p>“I cannot leave you, I cannot, I—”</p><p>“It’s okay. It’s okay.”</p><p>No, nothing would ever be okay. Not after this. Never again. But Sephiroth could see that Cloud meant it, in the slope of his eyes, in the fading flickers of his warmth.</p><p>Those fingers slipped through his hair, one last time. “Will you do this, for me?”</p><p>And because Sephiroth knew who he belonged to, because he knew who he loved and who he would choose, forever and for all eternity, in this lifetime, and the next, there was only one answer he could give.</p><p>“Yes. I promise.”</p><p>Cloud smiled and closed his eyes.</p><p>It took everything he had, and he was almost certain he would not manage it. But he knew that he had to. And so, after a soft moment, in which he laid the blond to rest in the steel tomb, folded the small hands over the stilled heart, Sephiroth stood up and began to make his way out of the reactor. Later, he would allow himself to fall apart completely. Later, he would break. But he had exchanged one last promise with the love of his life.</p><p>It was now all that Sephiroth had left of him.</p><p>---</p><p>Zack had a secret, and it was one that he often tried to play off beneath cheery smiles and good-natured laughter: he was a bit of a sore loser. If he lost in a spar, or failed at a mission, he would quietly fume, hide the bitterness, and use it as fuel. The instinct had served him well, spurring him to train, to improve, to fight, to survive. It was also one thing that separated him from his mentor, because Angeal, kind, noble, patient Angeal, always accepted defeat with grace – at least, right up to the moment that he died. Angeal had believed there could be honor in loss. Zack was not like that, and after Modeoheim, he was no longer sure he ever wanted to be.</p><p>But the first monster took too long to fall and required a far greater expenditure of <em>everything</em> than he had anticipated or wanted. And the second and the third were upon him faster than he could blink. In the middle of the scuffle, in between dodges of claws and teeth, the ache in his shoulder ballooned into shocks of lightning, slowing down each swing of his sword. Yet, in spite of the agony, Zack kept going. There was no other option. He had no mana left, no spells to cast, no clever tricks up his sleeve. There was only the blade in his hands, the sharpness of the steel, the last remnant of the heavy legacy he had, however unwillingly, inherited.  </p><p>
  <em>Honor could be quite a burden, at times.</em>
</p><p>His arms burned. Still, Zack moved. He danced and ducked, sliced and stabbed. The edge of the Buster Sword was painted in splotches of red and brown, glinting like fire against the rays of the sunset. It seemed like hours since this war of attrition had begun, and he could feel each second that passed tearing into his muscles, forming tiny cracks in his bones. He did not have much longer, Zack knew that. But some part of himself – the part that hated to lose – continued to fight anyway. There had to be an opening. There had to be a chance. All he had to do was hold on until it came, and then, it would finally be over.    </p><p>It happened fast. Unexpectedly, almost accidentally, Zack managed to cleave deep into the arm of one makinoid, which cried out something vile in response. Its blood was seeping out, dripping into the dirt like droplets of dark rain, and at the sight, a feverish hope began to bud within Zack. Was this it? Was this the opportunity he had been waiting for? It was. He could do this. Just a little bit more. Another push. Another attack. He could do this. He could be a hero. He could. He could.   </p><p>But then, just as he had during the last training simulation he ran with Angeal, right before being shipped off to Wutai, right before everything went completely wrong, Zack made a mistake. He let his confidence breed carelessness – and failed to track the movement of second creature behind him.</p><p>Zack felt it all before he could see. The incisors sinking into the flesh of his shoulder. The talons piercing through the muscles of his thigh. The weight slamming his back against the harsh gravel. The deafening howls of the makinoids piercing his ears. Just like that, he was on the ground, defenseless and helpless. His sword had fallen a hair away from his fingers, and the taste of blood in his mouth had begun to choke off the last bits of air he now realized he was ever going to breathe.</p><p>
  <em>No!</em>
</p><p>But this was it. This was the end. He had raged as long as he could. There was nowhere left for the bitterness of loss to go. Above him, the chasm of the monster’s mouth looked endless and dark, and its screams were frightening and loud. As Zack closed his eyes and waited for that cavern to consume him, he thought of Aerith, their parting words, and for the first time in his life, he prayed to the Planet to send the girl he loved a silent apology.</p><p>
  <em>(“I’d like to spend more time with you.”) </em>
</p><p>There was another cry above him, wretched and inhuman, and somehow, instead of the void, all Zack sensed was the smattering of something hot, metallic, and liquid against his cheeks. More sounds followed. A crunching noise, the shattering of flesh and bone. The thudding of a body hitting the dirt. Footsteps kicking up dust. The cackling of lightning magic. Another shriek, strident, raucous. And then, nothing. In that brief pause, Zack felt his body being jerked upright, and he heard one more thing before he allowed himself a peek: a familiar, female voice.</p><p>“Zack!” Tifa called.</p><p>Not for the first time, Zack wondered how the hell this girl just happened to be right where he needed her. Regardless, there she was, her gloved hands grasped firmly around his shoulders. But Tifa was not alone. Behind her, Zack could see a shock of silver hair in angelic relief against the wreckage. Sephiroth was standing in the center of the square, his iconic nodachi shining like a fallen star in the twilight. The man was positioned between the corpses of the last two makinoids, now covered in telltale thin, crossing cuts. But the most important detail, the one that nearly made Zack’s heart sink out of his body, was the quiet. There was no howling, no screeching. The beasts had been silenced. They were slipping away in quiet green tendrils. At last, they were gone.</p><p>(He could keep his promise to Aerith, after all.)</p><p>“Thank goodness,” said Tifa. Her lips turned upward. “When Master Zangan came back alive – he called you a hero, Zack. The last of the villagers would not have gotten out without you.”</p><p>It was supposed to be a good thing. Zack was supposed to feel good, about the concept of living, about the fact that in those words, Tifa had just validated everything he had ever worked for. But for some reason, he found he could not be. There was none of the joy, none of the release. Something was off, something was missing, something was wrong. He could tell, because Tifa’s smile was strained at the edges, stretched between happy and crushed. He could tell, because unlike the time that they had met, when the man had also saved Zack from a fire summon amongst the trees of Wutai, Sephiroth’s hands were shaking.</p><p>It was then that Zack looked at Sephiroth’s face, and an altogether different emotion overran him completely.</p><p>“Oh, Gaia. No.”</p><p>Sephiroth did not say anything, and he did not have to. Zack could see the truth in the eyes, glistening with more than just the traditional mako glow. But still, the other man brushed past it, perhaps out of necessity, perhaps because if he did not, there was no guarantee that he would not break.</p><p>“The remainder of the townspeople made it to the mountain. They are waiting in the passageway for word that it is safe to return,” Sephiroth explained. And then, he added, in a voice that managed to be cool and calm and fractured, all at once. “Zack, you did well.”</p><p>Zack wanted to throw himself forward, wanted to take the man’s arms, shake them, thrash them. He wanted to yell, <em>Stop. Don’t do this. Don’t push away. Don’t deflect. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. </em>But he could not. His body betrayed him, remained fixed to the ground, spent and exhausted and waiting for the heat of mako healing to stitch closed his wounds. Until then, there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do, except for the one thing he had left in him, the one thing he had just enough energy for. And though Zack knew it would change absolutely nothing, he gave it all he had anyway.</p><p>He looked up at the sky, closed his eyes, and screamed.</p><p>The hoarseness of his throat somehow hurt more than the ache of his shoulder. But it was not more painful than the disbelief. Because Zack could not believe it. He could not. In the reactor, Cloud had told him, <em>See you later</em>, and he had said, <em>Yep</em> in reply. Those had been the last words he had shared with his best friend, and they were foolish and meaningless and a lie. He screamed for all of that. Zack screamed for the loss that no amount of effort would be able to overcome. He screamed for the death of another friend. But he also screamed, because he knew that there was someone who would be hurting far worse than he did now, and he could hardly fathom how the man was still standing, still breathing, still there<em>. </em></p><p>When his finally voice broke, Zack collapsed backward onto the ground, and let his grief shudder through in the ebbs and troughs of his breathing.</p><p>Now, a different kind of silence descended, dense and ugly and tense. It made the growing darkness that spread over them from the mountain feel all the more suffocating, like a blanket too heavy and too thick. There they were, sitting in the square, three people connected by something not one dared to speak aloud. Zack, splayed on the dirt, staring up at an empty sky. Tifa, with her head bowed, her hands folded, her tears falling. And Sephiroth, stoic and impassioned, standing as still as stone except for his trembling hands. They stayed like that, for seconds that stretched on and on, unmoving, unspeaking, carrying out an implicit agreement to remain here, to keep the reality abstract. To keep the loss suspended for as long as possible, to keep this terrible, surreal moment locked in time, forever.</p><p>But then, the moment ended.</p><p>Like a bolt of lightning in a clear sky, Zack’s PHS trilled loudly with the sound of a new message. It made the young man nearly jump out of his skin, in surprise, in frustration. A part of him contemplated taking the device and chucking it against the wall of the closest building. The rest of him, however, simply followed the motions, too tired to do otherwise. Zack reached into his pocket, flipped open the phone. In hindsight, he would recognize that it was a good thing that he did. Because Kunsel’s name flashed on the screen, and his words were short, clear, and unexpected.</p><p>
  <em>GET OUT OF NIBELHEIM. NOW. </em>
</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Suddenly, Sephiroth jerked his head up. Recognition flickered in his green eyes, as well as a bit of panic. He turned toward Zack and Tifa and yanked the two of them up off the ground. “We have to move,” he said, “We have to go.”</p><p>Tifa exhaled. “What’s happening?”</p><p>Zack, too, was about to repeat the question, when he finally heard it, whatever Sephiroth had sensed. The sound of helicopter blades slicing through the air, the crunching of gravel beneath the tall wheels of trucks and tanks, the clamor of weapons and armor marching towards them. His mind whirred with the possibilities – mercenaries, AVALANCHE, some other unknown and unforeseen party – but in truth, there was only one option. The one that had knocked the scales off balance, that had set the wheels of this entire day in motion. The only one to blame.</p><p>Shinra.  </p><p>“Well, isn’t this a fascinating sight?”</p><p>The voice that came from the speakers of the helicopter now beaming its lights upon them was tinny, but altogether too familiar. Zack could remember thinking how smug the man sounded, standing in front of the latest garrison of SOLDIERs to be sent to Wutai. Back then, Heidegger had played up the glories of battle, the noble cause of spreading mako energy to all corners of the globe, but the man himself rarely set foot on the field, only actually made the trip to the far continent after Sephiroth had assured their victory. That fact only made his appearance here, now, in the middle of this deserted town, all the more baffling (<em>because exactly what victory did Shinra come here to claim?</em>).</p><p>And yet, Heidegger was not the most concerning presence, not by a long shot. As the helicopter descended into the square and slid open its doors, there was another figure stepping out from the shadows to stand beside the man, another variable quantity at play – this one dressed in a white laboratory coat, with the rising moonlight reflected against his wire-thin glasses.</p><p>Sephiroth narrowed his eyes. “Hojo.”</p><p>At the sound of that name, a cold chill shuddered down Zack’s spine. This was not good. This was far from good. If there was confirmation that Shinra had a hand in the experiments that created these horrific creatures, that awakened Jenova and her power, the arrival of the head of the Science Department to the scene of the crime was it. But the fact that Dr. Hojo had not come alone, that he had brought what amounted to be a small army with him, only exacerbated the panic. There were rows of trucks driving toward them now, fanning out into the town square, their headlights piercing and hot in the darkness. Around them, Shinra foot-soldiers were spreading out into position, the clicking of their boots and guns like drumbeats. There was nothing they could do. They were surrounded. They were trapped. And the two men before them knew it.</p><p>When the helicopter engine cut off, Heidegger spoke first, his face twisted in a disingenuous smile. “General Sephiroth,” he said, almost too gleefully, “I apologize it took so long for us to get here. But I finally got around to reading your report on this mission, and I knew we had to come here straight away.”</p><p>The reminder of the quickly hashed piece of paperwork was a clear taunt, one that Sephiroth did not meet. He replied, in a cautious and steady voice, “There was no need. We’ve completed the mission as intended. The issues with the reactor have been resolved.”</p><p>“Have they now?” Hojo said. “How very…disappointing.”</p><p>At that, Zack felt it – the flicker of anger, like a spark, surging in the air. For the second that it lasted, it made Sephiroth seem aglow with fire, with rage. But the feeling faded quickly, wrangled in by the man’s impeccable control, even though underneath the veneer, Zack could see it simmering, boiling, waiting to spill out.</p><p>“Indeed,” the silver-haired man stated. His grip on his sword visibly tightened, creaking the leather of his gloves. “It was a disappointment. The monsters hidden in the reactor caused significant damage to the town. However, the people have been evacuated and <em>all</em> monsters have been disposed of now.”</p><p>It was Hojo’s turn to be surprised. “All?”</p><p>Sephiroth looked at him. “Yes. All.”</p><p>Something clicked then. The doctor’s face curled, but whether it was from frustration over Sephiroth’s continued defiance or another thing entirely, Zack could not tell. Hojo merely shook his head and turned his attention to his fellow director. “We will need to get rid of the evidence,” he said.</p><p>Heidegger smiled, just as he did to all the SOLDIERs he had sent off to die. “Very well. Men, gather all the townsfolk, all the witnesses. Burn everything to the ground.”</p><p>Immediately, Tifa jerked forward, and Zack had to extend his arms to stop her from rushing directly into the line of fire. He held on tight, despite her screaming, despite her kicking, and watched helplessly as several of the troopers broke away from the larger group and started their march to the mountain, to the pathway where the villagers were waiting to return to a home that would no longer be there for them. The rest of the army split between those emptying out cannisters of gasoline over the buildings and gravel, and those tilting the barrels of their guns straight at them like dark and daring eyes. The sights, the smell, the sounds – everything filled Zack with fury at the idea of escaping what he had thought was a certain death, only to be put down minutes later like a misbehaved mutt. It made him want to join Tifa in screaming, to pick up his sword and charge forward. He wanted to fight, against his injuries, against his fatigue, against this injustice, against Shinra, against it all.  </p><p>But in front of him, Sephiroth continued to stand perfectly still. The man’s gaze landed on Hojo, and it was like winter whipped back into Nibelheim with the iciness that swept through the space. “This,” he said, baritone unusually soft. “This was your fault.”</p><p>It was hard to tell what the scientist was thinking, the glare of the headlights obscuring full view of his face. There was the crease of the brow, the grim line of his lips. Hojo was studying Sephiroth, the weapon he had spent decades constructing, like one would perform an autopsy of a stranger, detached, methodical, and unfeeling. Evidently, whatever the good doctor found in that examination left him displeased, because the man lifted his head and sighed.</p><p>“I see,” he noted, his tone dripping with recognition, with realization, with regret. And then, as casually as ordering a coffee, as blowing out a candle, as breathing, Hojo turned to the Shinra trooper standing beside him and ordered: “Shoot him.”</p><p>To the credit of whatever loyalty remained at Shinra (or perhaps it was fear), the soldier actually hesitated. “Shoot him? The General?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Like the moment before the executioner’s blade cleaved through the neck, the tension that followed was palpable, tangible. No one dared move a muscle, not Sephiroth, not Zack, not Tifa, not any of the Shinra army. Even Heidegger stilled, his jaw slackened in disbelief. But even if the other director managed to find the words to convey his protests, it appeared the doctor was beyond reason and beyond waiting. Hojo reached into his coat pocket, the outline of his fingers grasping at something beneath the white. His voice was clipped, simple. “I suppose it would have come to this. It is oddly fitting, after all.”  </p><p>It was too fast. Zack heard it before his eyes registered the motion. The shot ripped through the atmosphere, the flicker of gunpowder like a tiny firework, bright in the night. Later, he would turn that second over his head, think about how practiced Hojo’s movements were (he’s done this before, he’s killed before). He would think about how much he wanted to move, to pull Sephiroth out of the way, about how his body once again remained frozen with pain, about how much his bones still weighed, and about how much his heart wanted to shatter from the <em>everything</em> of the day. About how he would have to stand there and lose another friend, this time directly in front of him.</p><p>Except that was not what happened.</p><p>Zack blinked. And when he opened his eyes, Nibelheim was on fire.</p><p>---</p><p>He had hesitated, just for a second. The reasons for the indecision were clear, because Sephiroth had dreamed them for months, each nightmare permanently etched like scars. The town ablaze. Dead bodies all around. The birth of a terrible god from the ashes and the dust. Now, there would be no blond warrior with breathtaking blue eyes to curb the monster, but there also would be no demon to slay. Both had died in the reactor, drowned in a sea of mako, emptied out on an altar of steel. The reality of how much had changed from his first visions (<em>your fault your fault your fault</em>) hurt to even contemplate, and there was no time to think. So, Sephiroth stopped thinking and started moving. He lifted his left hand, his sword arm, and blocked the incoming bullet with the steel of his sword.</p><p>Then, with his right, he released the anger, summoned the fire, and gave destiny another sacrifice.</p><p>Some part of Sephiroth registered the pandemonium bursting through the grey smoke, the orange and red and yellow flames. Shinra troopers scattering about, rushing away from the conflagration that chased them, Hojo and Heidegger ducking to escape the heat, the helicopter they had arrived in melting in the center of the square. Behind him, Zack was stammering and Tifa was screaming. Everything was far too loud. All Sephiroth wanted was silence. All he wanted was to crawl some place quiet and finally shatter. But he could not, not yet.</p><p>Quickly, he tore his gaze away from the familiar fire, and turned to face his two younger companions. In a voice that was perhaps too unsympathetic for the moment, Sephiroth said, “Move.”</p><p>The rush to the outskirts of the village was swift. Just like she had during their first climb to the reactor, Tifa defied her civilian status and kept pace. They bounded past the manor, into the forest, up the path leading to the mountain. The night was eerily empty. Whatever monsters they might have encountered had vanished, as if frightened away by the chaos, by wildfire blazing below. That should have been a sign, should have registered something sinister, should have alarmed him. If Sephiroth was in his right mind, he would have noticed. Now, he was not. Maybe he never really was. He certainly never would be again.</p><p>
  <em>No. Focus.</em>
</p><p>“Fuck, there they are!”</p><p>From behind him, Zack’s voice cut through the fog, slicing cleanly as if through softened butter. Sephiroth looked up. At the base of the mountain, in front of the entrance to a large cavern that cut through the rock, there were ten Shinra troopers, their guns and batons and guard dogs at the ready. But they were not the most pressing detail at the moment – because at their feet, lined up like prisoners awaiting the gallows, were the last of the Nibelheim natives, one with achingly familiar blonde hair. They were kneeling on the dirt, their cries and whimpers carried through the wind, and their hands were all held up in the air, begging, pleading.</p><p>“Please, don’t shoot!”</p><p>“We haven’t done anything!”</p><p>“Please! Please!”</p><p>There was no time. Once again, Sephiroth moved without thinking. Masamune hummed like a perfectly struck string on a violin, the steel slicing through the bodies without any resistance. One man fell after the other, dominos succumbing to the greater force of gravity. When the seconds flashed and the moment ended, Sephiroth was left standing in the middle of a bloodied clearing, surrounded by broken bodies and broken guns, breathless from something he knew was not quite exertion, not even close.   </p><p>“Holy shit.”</p><p>Zack, again. The young man’s shoulders were sagged, his face drawn and tired, his scabbed wounds visible from the tears in his uniform. Beside him, Tifa’s mouth was wide open. Her shocked expression was mimicked across the faces of the rest of the Nibelheim townspeople, who were watching Sephiroth wordlessly, soundlessly. It was a look Sephiroth was far too familiar with, had seen so often on the laboratory assistants, on the villagers in Wutai, on enemies he met on the battlefield. It was a look that had made him question who he was, what he was, and what he was capable of. And it was look that reminded him that he had come to this very town in search of answers, and it had cost him everything.</p><p><em>Monster. </em> </p><p>No, no time for that, not yet. Sephiroth allowed Masamune to fade from his grasp, cleared his throat, steadied his voice. “We have to leave,” he said, as matter-of-factly as he could. “Shinra has attacked your town.”</p><p>One of the men responded, indignant, frustrated, afraid. “But aren’t you Shinra? What’s going on?”</p><p>“Yeah, what is happening?”</p><p>“I smell smoke. Is there a fire?”</p><p>Zack stepped in. “I’m sorry. I know this is confusing. We will explain later, but right now, we need to go to the nearest village.”</p><p>There was more clamor, more protests, more shouting. <em>What happened? Do you see that smoke? The town? That’s the Shinra army, right? Why are they here? Did they have something to do with the monsters? Why do we have to go? Why? What? Why? </em>There were thirty or so people, mostly women, a handful of children, some elderly. They, and their terror, and their doubt, were all that remained of the town that once stood at the foot of this great mountain, and their anger was more than justified. Sephiroth was willing to submit himself and his actions to their judgment later, but there was one other person he felt deserved the right the most. And she was looking directly at him now.</p><p>Claudia Strife was quiet. She rose up from her knees, brushed the dirt off the skirt of her brown dress and walked toward him. It was only when she was standing directly in front of him that Sephiroth noticed – she had no fear in her eyes, no resentment, no blame. There was only a relief, a tenderness, something that said, <em>I am glad you are okay, </em>something that said, <em>I care. S</em>omething that Sephiroth felt was entirely unwarranted.  </p><p>Then, he realized: she did not know. And he would have to be the one to tell her.</p><p>Claudia smiled, as gently as she had the first time he met her. “I know they all talk loud and angry, but trust me, deep down, I think they are grateful. You saved their lives, after all.”</p><p>Sephiroth looked away. “I – I just –”</p><p>“You saved mine, too. Let me be the first to say thank you.”</p><p>He let out a breath he did not know he was holding. There was no point in delaying the inevitable, no point in hiding the truth. Sephiroth fumbled for the words. “I’m sorry,” he began. “I’m sorry. Cloud – I’m so sorry. I should have – it was my fault, I –”</p><p>It was too much, and he could hold it back no longer. The dam had been broken. Whatever energy he had allotted trying to keep the weight away, trying to push down the wave, the pain, the sorrow, was now spent. All that remained was barely enough to keep Sephiroth upright, to keep his knees from buckling, to keep his lungs pumping air in and out, in and out. He could see reality settle in, paid witness to the moment the understanding hit Claudia full force, watched as the woman’s blue eyes filled with tears. The sobs shook her body, the sorrow engulfed her features, thickened her voice. He waited for her to pull away, waited for her kindness to transform into punishing fury, waited to accept her derision and her scorn.</p><p>Instead, Claudia stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his trembling shoulders. “Oh no, Sephiroth,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>That was it. There was nothing left. After a long and arduous day, in this mother’s embrace, Sephiroth finally let himself go.</p><p>---</p><p>It took them all the night and well into the morning, but those that remained of Nibelheim emerged on the other side of the mountain and arrived at a small village on the outskirts of Rocket Town. About halfway through, after it became clear that Shinra had not sent any other men after them, the refugees had paused somewhere along the path to rest and to hear the explanation. To Tifa and to Claudia, Sephiroth and Zack provided the whole story, or at least, the parts of it they knew: Jenova and her malice, Hojo and his inhumanity, Heidegger and his cruelty. To the mayor and the rest of the villagers, they stripped out the sordid details and gave what they needed to. In the end, there had been enough anger to fuel a warship, plenty of which Sephiroth took with an empty, unfeeling expression. But with Tifa’s credibility and the fact that there was now enough anti-Shinra sentiment to work in their favor, the people bought into the tale – that Shinra had been conducting human experiments in Nibelheim, that Zack and Sephiroth were attempting to obtain proof of such atrocities, that the monsters that attacked were the products of those experiments, and that the company was willing to destroy any and all evidence of their wrongdoing, even if it meant wiping an entire town off the face of the map.</p><p>It was the truth anyway, even if not the whole of it. Even if it left out the one piece that Sephiroth could hardly bring himself to say aloud.</p><p>Sephiroth told the story of Cloud’s death only once, forced it out of him in pained strokes, for Claudia’s sake. Afterwards, he had to stay ahead of the group, far enough so that his breathless sobs could not be heard. It was only after the long walk had ended, and the townsfolk scattered into various homes and camps haphazardly set up by the generosity of the neighboring village, that Sephiroth finally allowed himself to physically collapse. According to Claudia, he and Zack had slept for almost fifteen hours, dead weight sinking into the cots that had been set up in the community center. For Sephiroth, it had been a long and dreamless sleep. Now that Nibelheim had burned, now that Jenova had drowned in the reactor, he suspected that he would never see that nightmare ever again, nor hear the haunting tones of her voice. He was uncertain how to feel about that.</p><p>He was uncertain about a lot of things, now.</p><p>They stayed in that village for two weeks. In the intervening time, some of the refugees moved onward to Rocket Town or other areas, in search of a fresh start. Others, like Claudia, decided to wait before separating even further from the mountain that had defined their whole lives, in spite of the obvious danger of Shinra finishing what they had started. But Sephiroth knew the company well enough to understand that the villagers were likely safe – that is, as long as he stayed far away from them. They had been pawns in a gruesome game, unfortunate collateral damage. Because beyond the practicality of keeping the skeletons buried, Hojo and Heidegger had also given the order to destroy Nibelheim as emotional punishment, just as they had when they sent Sephiroth as a child to war. Even if the villagers had survived, the message had been sent. Still, if he did not leave them, they would send another. It was only a matter of time.  </p><p>“So, you’re leaving.”</p><p>Zack was leaning against the doorway. The dark circles that had been under his eyes were fading, and the tears in his SOLDIER uniform had been patched with slightly mismatched fabric. It made him look like a doll that had been torn apart and stitched back together, only the various pieces no longer quite meshed the way they used to.</p><p>From his seat on the cot, Sephiroth stood up, swinging his bag over his shoulder. He packed light and little, scraps of whatever supplies and clothing he could obtain from the limited stock at the stores in the village. The whole process of building a life in a backpack had been oddly meditative. He knew then that whatever awaited him would be far different than the world he had lived in before, where all his physical needs had been largely attended to on the condition that he remained shackled and obedient. Not anymore. Now, he was free.</p><p>If only the price had not been so steep.</p><p>“Yes. They will come after me soon enough.”</p><p>“And you are gonna try and stop them?”</p><p>Sephiroth paused, looked down at his hands. In the sunlight filtering in from the window, his skin looked almost unbearably pale. He no longer wore the gloves, had tossed them and the boots and the SOLDIER belt out into the forest somewhere, exchanged everything for a simple navy button up shirt tucked into black pants. The only thing he willingly kept was the jacket (because it had been a gift from Angeal and Genesis, and because of one fond memory he had of catching Cloud in his closet, his small frame nearly swallowed by the black leather), though he had stripped the pauldrons off. It left him feeling rather small and disarmed. He supposed that was the point.  </p><p>“I had promised Cloud I would keep fighting,” Sephiroth replied. “So that’s what I have to do.”</p><p>In response, the other man sighed, his hands landing on his hips. “Alright,” Zack said. He crossed the threshold, stooped under the cot adjacent to Sephiroth and pulled out his own knapsack, all ready to go. Then, for perhaps the first time since the fire, Zack smiled. “Okay, where to?”</p><p>“No. I cannot ask you—”</p><p>“You’re not asking. But I’m going. If you think I’m going to let you martyr yourself in a fight against a global super conglomerate, you should think again.”</p><p>Sephiroth opened his mouth, then closed it, let the second attempt he knew would be futile die somewhere in his chest. He could not help it, the tiny bit of warmth that was blossoming in him, as if his heartbeat were slowly, carefully, cautiously, starting once more. “Can you even spell <em>conglomerate</em>?” he asked instead, with a gentle quirk of his brow.</p><p>Zack smirked. “I’m a lot smarter than I look.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Cloud was my friend. You are my friend. I am not losing anyone else.”</p><p>Sephiroth exhaled. “I know that, too.”</p><p>There was a moment, in which Zack’s blue-eyed gaze bore straight into Sephiroth, searching, examining, probing, questioning. But finally, he nodded. He lifted his bag onto his back and slung his arms through the straps. “Two guys against Shinra, huh?” Zack said. “I like our chances.”</p><p>“Then you’ll like them even better now.”</p><p>Right where Zack had been standing moments earlier, there was Tifa, her dark hair tied in a low ponytail, her own pack jutting up from behind her shoulders. Her tone, her face, her stance – they brokered no disagreement. In her crimson eyes, in the pain and regret that were held in the irises, there was something that Sephiroth recognized. Suddenly, all her actions, her willingness to believe them, to trust, to follow Cloud’s lead, were colored with startling, poignant context. Despite logic, despite himself, Sephiroth felt for her. And he could tell, with the way Tifa looked at him in return, that she felt for him too.</p><p>The understanding was enough. “Okay,” Sephiroth agreed.</p><p>Zack rolled his eyes. “You protest against me, but you let her join the team without anything else to say?”</p><p>The silver-haired man shrugged. The motion was too casual, too foreign, something that he would have never done in the rigid structure of the military, in the haunting sterileness of the laboratory. For that reason, it felt good. “I suspect she knows how to spell <em>conglomerate,</em>” he said, earning him a half-hearted scoff in return. Ignoring Zack for the moment, Sephiroth turned his attention back on the newcomer, to the girl who he now knew shared his pain. There was no point in warning her of the dangers, no point in deterring her will. But he would be remiss if he did not ensure that she was prepared.   </p><p>“Are you ready, Miss Lockhart?” asked Sephiroth.</p><p>Tifa met his gaze, steady, like the flashes of someone they both once knew. “Yes. I am. I won’t let you down, sir,” And then, without prompting, “You know, you can call me Tifa.”</p><p>(<em>“You can call me Cloud, sir, if you want to.”</em>)</p><p>Sephiroth closed his eyes, waited until the wave fell, until the memory folded itself back into his mind, until he could breathe again. Each time the feeling echoed through him, there would be a moment when he believed he would drown. But eventually, it would pass. And even if it did not, Sephiroth had made a promise. To fight. To live.</p><p>He would defy destiny itself to keep it.</p><p>“Very well, Tifa. Please, call me Sephiroth.”</p><p>---</p><p>It would have been an unmitigated disaster. A village destroyed. A reactor damaged beyond repair. A priceless specimen drowned in mako. Millions in property damage. Two highly valued operatives lost. The pressure to explain what had just occurred had Heidegger fuming the entire return trip back to Midgar. But Hojo paid the man no mind. The fool simply had too small of an imagination, too small of a brain, to comprehend the grander scheme of everything that had happened. There were things in the works that were far beyond Heidegger’s intellect, that were far more important than money and control.</p><p>Which was why, in spite of Sephiroth's failure, Hojo could not help but be pleased. That was the thing about experiments – when they carved unexpected paths, it meant there was much more to be learned, perhaps even more so than what could be obtained from a simple, straightforward confirmation of a hypothesis. And the incident at Nibelheim was far from expected, and therefore provided a wealth of information. He could now retune his theories, ponder other avenues for exploration. He could scrutinize old work with the benefit of a new lens. There was so much to comb through, so much to parse out and dissect. For that reason, it was not a disaster.</p><p>And besides, even if it was, not all had been lost.</p><p>Because, strapped onto his exam room table and staring up at him with glowing blue eyes, was what had the potential to be his greatest discovery. The boy who had been chosen. The boy who had survived. There had been a reason, one that was not obvious from initial observation, from cursory glances at files. A reason that the boy drew Sephiroth to him. A reason why Hojo had found him somehow still intact in the reactor, from a wound that would have otherwise killed any other human being. A reason why Jenova could not destroy him. It signaled something wonderous, something surreal, something fascinating, the kind of truth that every scientist dreamed of pursuing. It thrilled Hojo in a manner that he had not felt in the longest time, not since he had first laid eyes on Jenova and all her glory. She was a calling that refused to be ignored, and as it was then, so it would be now. No hesitation, no question, no qualms. Whatever secrets the boy had to offer, he would find it, and he would do it by any means necessary.    </p><p>Hojo straightened his glasses, then lifted his scalpel. The lights were bright over the flesh.</p><p>“Well, Specimen C,” he said, as he made the first cut. “Let us begin.”</p><p>
  <strong>To Be Continued in Part Two</strong>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>That Temporary Character Death tag was super temporary, huh?</p><p>As always, please, feel free to leave your thoughts on Part One down below, or contact me on Twitter @crescentstrife or over on Discord @rabidheart#6058. I am always grateful for your kind words - they keep me going when I need an extra push!</p><p>As a reminder, I'll be taking a short break from posting now. I hadn't realized how much writing and editing every week on top of full-time work was taking out of me, so I'm hoping this breather to refuel will be enough to carry through posting weekly again when we get to Part Two. Don't worry, you will not have to wait long. I'll even give you an exact date: June 3rd (I'm on EST so adjust accordingly!). I apologize for the delay, but I really do hope to see you back here on that date, for Chapter 20. </p><p>Once again, thank you, thank you. See you soon!</p>
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